“I mean,” she explained, “you’re going to take a nice, long vacation in August or September and coming up to the Antlers. I talked it over with Jack Hawarden and it’s all arranged. There won’t be room for you in the cottage, but you can get a tent or a lodge within a stone’s throw of it; and we’ll have the gloriousest time you ever dreamed of. Isn’t that splendid? Say it is!”
“But Dey,” he objected. “You don’t understand. I never took a vacation in my life. I ain’t got time to. This is goin’ to be the busiest summer yet, for me. I’ve a dozen irons in the fire. I’d like awful well to come an’ see you there, but—”
“I’ve settled it all,” she replied calmly, “And you’re coming. It will only be two weeks;—if you can’t get away for longer. But you’re coming for those two weeks.”
“I can’t, Dey. I’ve got—”
“Now, I suppose you expect me to be a lowly squidge, and sigh and say ‘Oh, very well!’” she retorted. “But I’m not going to do anything of the sort. Listen: You’ve never had a vacation. Then it’s time you took one. I’d be ashamed to be so inexperienced, if I were you. You’ve got a lot of irons in the fire. Very well then; you have two whole months to get enough of them out to let you take a fortnight’s rest. You’ve never gone anywhere with me, Caleb. You’ve just been with me for an afternoon or an evening when half your mind was on that wretched railroad. Think of our being together for two gorgeous outdoor weeks, with nothing to do but have all the good times there are. And in the Adirondacks, too. Caleb!”
“I’d—I’d love to, Dey, if—”
“So then it’s all arranged!” she cried, happily.
“Hold on!” he exclaimed, “I can’t. I—”
“Now, I shall have to discipline you,” she sighed. “I see that. I was afraid I’d have to. Look me in the eyes! Now, say after me: ‘I promise to come to the Antlers for a fortnight this summer.’ Say it!”
“I—Why, Dey, I—”