Old Rose and Silver eBook

Myrtle Reed
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 292 pages of information about Old Rose and Silver.

Old Rose and Silver eBook

Myrtle Reed
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 292 pages of information about Old Rose and Silver.

“Of course,” Isabel agreed, after a moment’s pause.  “Your friends, the Crosby twins, have called,” she continued.

“Really?” Allison asked, with interest.  “How do you like them?”

“I wish they’d come often,” she smiled.  “They remind me of a field of red clover, they’re so breezy and so wholesome.”

“I must hunt ’em up,” he returned, absently.  “They used to be regular little devils.  It’s a shame for them to have all that money.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll waste it.  They don’t know how to use it.”

“Perhaps they do, in a way.  One Fourth of July they gave every orphan in the Orphans’ Home two dollars’ worth of fireworks.  Anybody else would have wasted the money on shoes, or hats.”

“I see you haven’t grown up.  Would you rather have fireworks than clothes?”

“There is a time in life when one sky-rocket can give more pleasure than a pair of shoes, and the gift of pleasure is the finest gift in the world.”

Allison was agreeably surprised, for hitherto Isabel’s conversation had consisted mainly of monosyllables and platitudes, or the hesitating echo of someone’s else opinion.  Now he perceived that it was shyness; that Isabel had a mind of her own, and an unusual mind, at that.  He looked at her quickly and the colour bloomed upon her pale, cold face.

“Tell me, little playmate, what have the years done for you since you went out and pulled up the rose bushes to find the scent bottles?”

“Nothing,” she answered, not knowing what else to say.

“Still looking for the unattainable?”

“Yes, if you like to put it that way.”

“Where’s your mother?”

“Out lecturing.”

“What about?”

“The Bloodless Revolution, or the Gradual Emancipation of Woman,” she repeated, parrot-like.

“Her work must keep her away from home a great deal,” he ventured, after a pause.

“Yes.  I seldom see her.”

“You must be lonely.”

She turned her dark eyes to his.  “I live in a hotel,” she said.

In the simple answer, Allison saw an unmeasured loneliness, coupled with a certain loyalty to her mother.  He changed the subject.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

“Yes, indeed.  Aunt Francesca is lovely and so is Cousin Rose.  I wish,” she went on, with a little sigh as she glanced about the comfortable room, “that I could always stay here.”  The child-like appeal in her tone set Allison’s heart to beating a little faster.

“I wish you could,” he said.  Remorsefully, he remembered the long hours he had spent with Rose at the piano, happily oblivious of Isabel.

“Are you fond of music?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed!  I always sit outside and listen when you and Cousin Rose play.”

“Come in whenever you want to,” he responded, warmly.

“Won’t I be in the way?  Won’t I be a bother?”

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Old Rose and Silver from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.