He paused, a little flushed and exalted. Never before had Bob McGraw
unburdened his heart of its innermost secrets, its hopes, its fears,
its aspirations; for a moment now he almost quivered at the thought that
Donna would look upon him as a dreamer, an idealist--perhaps a fool--he,
a penniless desert wanderer assuming to hold in his sunburnt palm the
destinies of the under dogs of civilization--the cripples too weak and
hopeless to be anything more than wretched camp-followers in the Army of
Labor.
He glanced down at her now, half expecting, dreading to meet, the look
of gentle indulgence so common to the Unbeliever. But there was no
patronizing smile, no tolerant note in her voice as she asked simply:
“And this great, beautiful Utopia of yours, Bob--what did you call it?”
“It doesn't exist yet,” he explained hastily, “but it--it may. And when
it does become a reality, I'm going to call it Donnaville.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounds so much better than Bobville or Robertstown, and
because it will be beautiful. It will be the green fields of God after
centuries upon centuries of purgatory; because it will be the land I've
been telling you about, where you'll find all the things your soul is
hungry for; where we will own a big farm, you and I, with great fields
of alfalfa with purple blossoms; and there'll be long rows of apple and
pear trees and corn and--don't you understand, dear? It will be the most
beautiful thing in the desert. And yet,” he added a little sadly, “I may
be beaten into the earth and all my life Donnaville will remain nothing
but a dream, a desire, and so I--I--”
“Nobody can despoil you of your dreams,” she interrupted, “and hence
you'll never be beaten, Bob. The dreamers do the world's work. But tell
me. How do you propose to establish Donnaville? Tell me all about it,
dear. I want to--help.”
He gave her a grateful glance. “I guess I must be wound up to-night,”
he began, “but it is good to talk it over after hugging it to myself so
many years, and suffering and striving as I have suffered and striven
since I came into this country.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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