"I am going to have a short khaki suit with leggins coming way up," declared Helen, who could not contemplate anything without seeing herself dressed to suit the occasion.
"Me, too," sleepily from Lucy, who was trying to keep awake long enough to find out what it all meant.
"Aunt Lizzie, I wish you would consent. It all depends on you. You could eat in the cabin and sleep in the cabin and not camp out at all. I could go up right away and build the camp. I'd just love to have something to do. Bill Tinsley, from Charlottesville, got shipped with me and I'm pretty sure he'd join me. You'd like Bill, he's so quaint. We are both of us great carpenters and could make a peach of a job of it. Do, please, Aunt Lizzie!"
Could this be the young man who, only ten minutes ago, she had described as being in a state of dejection bordering on insanity? This enthusiastic boy with his eyes dancing in joyful anticipation of manual labor to be plunged into? If she consented to go to the mountains, thereby no doubt making herself very uncomfortable, she might save her beloved nephew from doing the thing that she was dreading more than all others, dreading it so much that she had been afraid to give voice to it: going to France to fight with the Allies.
"Well, Lewis, if this plan means that you will find occupation and happiness, I will consent. I can't bear to think of your being idle. 'Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.'"
"Oh, Cousin Lizzie, I think you are just splendid!" exclaimed Helen.
And, indeed, Miss Elizabeth Somerville was splendid in her way. She was offering herself on the altar of aunthood. It was a real sacrifice for her to consent to this wild plan of going to the mountains. She hated snakes, and while she did not confess that she hated Nature, she certainly had no love for her. Her summer outings had meant, heretofore, comfortable hotels at the springs or seashore, where bridge was the rule and Nature the exception. The promise of being allowed to sleep in the cabin and even eat in it was not any great inducement. A log cabin, built and lived in and finally, no doubt, died in, by a sick Englishman was not very pleasant to contemplate. Miss Lizzie was very old-fashioned in all her ideas with the exception of germs, and she was very up-to-date as to them. No modern scientist knew more about them or believed in them more implicitly. Oh, well! She could take along plenty of C. N. and sulphur candles and crude carbolic. That would kill the germs. She would find out the latest cure for snake bite, and with a pack of cards for solitaire perhaps she could drag out an existence until Robert Carter and Annette got home from this mad trip. All she hoped was that nobody would wake her up to see the sun rise and that she would not be called on to admire the moon every time there was a moon.