An impromptu circus, fox and geese, and an amicable
game of croquet finished the afternoon. At sunset
the tent was struck, hampers packed, wickets pulled
up, boats loaded, and the whole party floated down
the river, singing at the tops of their voices.
Ned, getting sentimental, warbled a serenade with the
pensive refrain . . .
Alone, alone, ah! Woe,
alone,
and at the lines . . .
We each are young, we each
have a heart,
Oh, why should we stand thus
coldly apart?
he looked at Meg with such a lackadiasical expression
that she laughed outright and spoiled his song.
“How can you be so cruel to me?” he whispered,
under cover of a lively chorus. “You’ve
kept close to that starched-up Englishwoman all day,
and now you snub me.”
“I didn’t mean to, but you looked so funny
I really couldn’t help it,” replied Meg,
passing over the first part of his reproach, for it
was quite true that she had shunned him, remembering
the Moffat party and the talk after it.
Ned was offended and turned to Sallie for consolation,
saying to her rather pettishly, “There isn’t
a bit of flirt in that girl, is there?”
“Not a particle, but she’s a dear,”
returned Sallie, defending her friend even while confessing
her shortcomings.
“She’s not a stricken deer anyway,”
said Ned, trying to be witty, and succeeding as well
as very young gentlemen usually do.
On the lawn where it had gathered, the little party
separated with cordial good nights and good-bys, for
the Vaughns were going to Canada. As the four
sisters went home through the garden, Miss Kate looked
after them, saying, without the patronizing tone in
her voice, “In spite of their demonstrative manners,
American girls are very nice when one knows them.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Mr. Brooke.
CASTLES IN THE AIR
Laurie lay luxuriously swinging to and fro in his
hammock one warm September afternoon, wondering what
his neighbors were about, but too lazy to go and find
out. He was in one of his moods, for the day
had been both unprofitable and unsatisfactory, and
he was wishing he could live it over again. The
hot weather made him indolent, and he had shirked
his studies, tried Mr. Brooke’s patience to
the utmost, displeased his grandfather by practicing
half the afternoon, frightened the maidservants half
out of their wits by mischievously hinting that one
of his dogs was going mad, and, after high words with
the stableman about some fancied neglect of his horse,
he had flung himself into his hammock to fume over
the stupidity of the world in general, till the peace
of the lovely day quieted him in spite of himself.
Staring up into the green gloom of the horse-chestnut
trees above him, he dreamed dreams of all sorts, and
was just imagining himself tossing on the ocean in
a voyage round the world, when the sound of voices
brought him ashore in a flash. Peeping through
the meshes of the hammock, he saw the Marches coming
out, as if bound on some expedition.
