nder the seat by now. "Come
right 'long in," she repeated. "You're tired, aren't you, Hilary? But
a good night's rest'll set you up wonderful. Take her into the spare
room, Pauline. Dear me, I must have felt you was coming, seeing that I
aired it out beautiful only this morning. I'll go call Mr. Boyd to
take Fanny to the barn."
"Isn't she the dearest thing!" Pauline declared, as she and Hilary went
indoors.
The spare room was back of the parlor, a large comfortable room, with
broad windows facing south and west, and a small vine-covered porch all
its own on the south side of the room.
Pauline pulled forward a great chintz-cushioned rocker, putting her
sister into it, and opened the porch door. Beyond lay a wide, sloping
meadow and beyond the meadow, the lake sparkled and rippled in the
sunshine.
"If you're not contented here, Hilary Shaw!" Pauline said, standing in
the low doorway. "Suppose you pretend you've never been here before!
I reckon you'd travel a long ways to find a nicer place to stay in."
"I shouldn't doubt it if you were going to stay with me, Paul; I know
I'm going to be homesick."
Pauline stretched out a hand to Captain, the old dog, who had come
around to pay his compliments. Captain liked visitors--when he was
convinced that they really were visitors, not peddlers, nor agents,
quite as well as his master and mistress did. "You'd be homesick
enough, if you really were off on your travels--you'd better get used
to it. Hadn't she, Captain?" Pauline went to unpack the valise,
opening the drawers of the old-fashioned mahogany bureau with a little
breath of pleasure. "Lavender! Hilary."
Hilary smiled, catching some of her sister's enthusiasm. She leaned
back among her cushions, her eyes on the stretch of shining water at
the far end of the pasture. "I wish you were going to be here, Paul,
so that we could go rowing. I wonder if I'll ever feel as if I could
row again, myself."
"Of course you will, and a great deal sooner than you think." Pauline
hung Hilary's dressing-gown across the foot of the high double bed.
"Now I think you're all settled, ma'am, and I hope to your
satisfaction. Isn't it a veritable 'chamber of peace,' Hilary?"
Through the open door and windows came the distant tinkle of a cow
bell, and other farm sounds. There came, too, the scent of the early
May pinks growing in the borders of Mrs. Boyd's old-fashioned flower
beds. Already the peace and quiet o
|