He came out almost immediately, followed by a string of little
Wilkinsons, clamoring to go along.
"Do you mind?" he asked her. "They can trail along behind. The
poor kids don't get out much."
"Bring them along, of course," she said, somewhat resignedly. And
with a flash of her old spirit: "I might have brought Jinx, too.
Then we'd have had a real procession."
They moved down the street, with five little Wilkinsons trailing
along behind, and Edith was uncomfortably aware that Joe's eyes
were upon her.
"You don't look well," he said at last. "You're wearing yourself
out taking care of your mother, Edith."
"I don't do much for her."
"You'd say that, of course. You're very unselfish."
"Am I?" She laughed a little, but the words touched her. "Don't
think I'm better than I am, Joe."
"You're the most wonderful girl in the world. I guess you know how
I feel about that."
"Don't Joe!"
But at that moment a very little Wilkinson fell headlong and burst
into loud, despairing wails. Joe set her on her feet, brushed her
down with a fatherly hand, and on her refusal to walk further picked
her up and carried her. The obvious impossibility of going on with
what he had been saying made him smile sheepishly.
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