“Yes. Let’s go by the road,” agreed Anne. “I don’t want to see Idlewild again this summer. It is too lonesome.”
“I suppose I oughtn’t to have said that about the Captain’s children,” said Norma contritely. “Is there something very sad about it, Nancy? I could have cut out my tongue as soon as I had spoken. I’m always saying the wrong thing!”
“Mamma says the Captain has had the saddest life,” answered Nancy, “though he is so cheerful, the most popular man in the township. All his neighbors are always coming to him with their troubles. You see, his daughter and her husband were killed in an automobile accident. It nearly broke his heart, for he worshiped Anna. Then, the very next spring, his own wife died. His brother and Aunt Polly were living twenty miles away at the time. He went on a long voyage; but that was the last. He must have been all alone for years. Wasn’t it sad?”
“He is an old dear!” declared Beverly. “He seems to admire you, Anne. You ought to be mighty pleased about it.”
“Yes, I’m jealous!” cried Norma. “He will never like me again.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Anne stiffly, and she walked on ahead.
“He is wonderful!” was Cicely’s comment. “He seems like the kind of big brave men who founded America. I’m glad they are not all in books. Nelly ought to be proud of her uncle.”
“I guess she is,” said Nancy. “Only it’s not the Yankee way to show it. I know.”
Anne walked on in silence; then she said rather suddenly. “It’s queer! When he told that story, I felt as if I had been there! It must be wonderful to be a sailor. If I were a man, that’s what I’d like to be.” This sounded so little like the Golden Girl that they all stared, then began to laugh.
“It’s because your father is a fancy yachtsman,” said Nancy.