They wanted very much to keep her to supper.
"Why, they"—which meant the family at home—"will be sure you have stayed here or at the Royalls'. Mr. Winslow has given ever so much money toward the fitting out of a vessel. They are all very patriotic. And Cary's uncle, Mr. March, has gone in heart and hand. I don't know which is right," said Betty with a sigh, "but now that we are in it I hope we will win."
But Doris was afraid Miss Recompense would feel anxious, and she promised to come in a few days and stay to supper.
It was very odd that just as she reached the corner Cousin Cary should cross the street and join her.
"I have been down having a talk with Warren," he said as if in explanation. "I wish I had a good, plodding business head like that, and Warren isn't lacking in the higher qualities, either. If there was money enough to keep the house going, he would enlist. He had almost resolved to when this stir in business came."
"Oh, I don't know what his mother would have done! If Uncle Leverett was alive——"
"He would have consented in a minute. Someone's sons must go," Cary said decisively. "No, don't go straight home—come over to the Common. Doris, you are only a little girl, but I want to talk to you. There is no one else——"
Doris glanced at him in amazement. He was quite generally grave, though he sometimes teased her, and occasionally read with her and explained any difficult point. But she always felt so like a very little girl with him.
They went on in silence, however, until they crossed Common Street and passed on under the magnificent elms. Clumps of shrubbery were blooming. Vines ran riotously over supports, and roses and honeysuckle made the air sweet.
"Doris,"—his voice had a little huskiness in it,—"you are very fond of father, and he loves you quite as if you were his own child. Oh, I wish you were! I wish he had half a dozen sons and daughters. If mother had lived——"