"It's been the most wonderful year one could dream of. Even Connie's
literary imagination could not conjure up a sweeter one."

"Always something to do, something to think of, some one to
see,--always on the alert, to-day crowded full, to-morrow to look
forward to."

"And best of all, David, always with you, working with you, taking care
of you,--always-- Oh, I am tired, but it is not so bad being tired out
when you've done your level best."

"Carol, it is fine, labor is, it is life. I can't imagine an existence
without it. Going to bed, worn out with the day, rising in the morning
ready to plunge in over one's ears. It is the only real life there is.
How do people endure a drifting through the days, with never anything
to do and never worn enough to sleep?"

"I don't know," said Carol promptly. "They aren't alive, that's sure.
But let's go to bed. David, please get off that floor and stop
coughing."

David obediently got up, lightly dusting his trousers as he did so.
Then he lifted his arms high and breathed deeply. "Anyhow it is better
to be tired than lazy, isn't it?"




CHAPTER VIII