"You are going back so soon." She said it with a most adorable little sigh.
"There will be the Easter vacation, and we must make the best of this. When I am away I shall think of you half the time. Let us see. Can't we make a plan—just at twilight, let us say. No matter where we are we will send a thought to each other. There's a queer new belief, magnetism or some such thing, that you can send an influence to your friends across any space, that if you sit still a few moments and think of them they will respond."
"Oh, that is a most felicitous thought!" Could she make Uncle Jason or any one think of her in that manner?
"Let us promise—just at twilight."
Some one took her in the next figure. What a slim, graceful girl she was. How like a bird she skimmed along when she ran races with Elena! And how they had scrambled over rocks and sat on the summits overlooking the ocean! There were no such fascinating memories with any other human being. There was no one quite like her.
And they did have a merry, delightful time. A week of going somewhere every day, of chances to slip in bits of charming confidences, of strolls in the old Museum and other famous places, and then it came to an end.
Fred and Savedra, friends as they were, dropped in to say good-by. Mrs. Westbury was present. He went over and took her hand—what magnificent rubies those were!
"I want to thank you for a great deal of courtesy," he said, "and much pleasure. And now we must both return to our old pastures and dig away at the dry roots and forget about everything but the exams."
He shook hands quietly with both ladies.