A little surprised, Rose asked, “Why do you think her ill?”
“She told me so,—or hardly that: she was merely led to say she was not strong, and a glance at that pale drawn face, Miss Lyndsay, would—pardon me—I—”
“No. Perhaps I should explain my surprise. It was because to hear of Aunt Anne as confessing weakness was to me more strange than you can imagine, unless you knew her as we do.”
“Yes. It means that she—well—it means that she is going to like you—a signal.”
“Thank you; that is very pleasant. But, talking of books again, you left off just where I hoped you were going to tell me what books after your kind go into the family ark.”
“I was going to do nothing of the sort,” cried Rose, with a laugh. “You will think we are a dull set of mere book-grubbers. I can assure you we are very foolish people, and can be as silly as the silliest.”
“You shall have credit for any possible margin of folly.”
“Oh, there must be a limit. I did not want to leave you to think we are what Aunt Anne calls book proud.”
“Yes. You must have known people who seem at some time to have suddenly discovered books, the real books, and are vastly set up by their new-found wealth.”
“I know. I was stupid. My friend Ellett came pretty near to having a grave case of the malady soon after I first knew him, but he was cured easily with the tenth dilution of a sarcasm.”
“I was. I hope you liked him, Miss Lyndsay. I like my friend to be liked by—by every one.”
“You meant to say, by your friends,” she returned, with pretty frankness. “You have committed the folly of making a large addition to your list.”
“And I may include Miss Rose Lyndsay?” he said, as he stood up.
“Then you have it,” and she gave her hand for good-by, and he went away. At the cliff edge he paused.
“I shall be dreadfully disappointed if we do not get the fishing.”
“Then good-by again.” In a moment he was in his canoe, for he had come alone, and was sturdily poling up the stream. The well-knit figure in the becoming guise of jacket and knickerbockers held her eye until it was lost around the river curves. Then she said aloud:
An hour ago she was Miss Lyndsay and as other women had been to him. But now—he smiled.
When Miss Lyndsay had made her own little statement, she looked about her shyly of a sudden, as if fearful lest some one might have overheard her, and, reassured by the knowledge that she was alone, added: