CHAPTER IX.
Excitements and engagements multiplied with us. One and another had visitors from the city and we were sent for to tea or to spend the evening. Stuart was asked every where as well. Louis came down the next day and sat in the hall with us, where we were sewing as usual. Then on Thursday we went to the Churchills. They sent the carriage over early, before we were ready, indeed. Louis eyed the soft cushions wistfully.
“Oh,” I spoke out before I thought, but I was glad an instant after,—“if you would spare a few moments,—if you would take an invalid a short drive—”
“With pleasure Miss. The sick young man, I suppose?”
“Yes,” and I ran to beg papa to help him out. Louis was delighted, I could see.
They drove down the quiet street, where the trees met overhead. Quaint and old fashioned, with great gardens, many of the houses being owned by widows, or elderly people whose children were married and gone. Less than a quarter of a mile away the road curved, and in this little three-cornered space stood our pretty gray stone church, the shady side covered with ivy.
“It was delightful;” said Louis on his return. “But I never thought of the great liberty we were taking.”
“Do not fret about that,” I made answer gaily. “Be just as good as you can, while I am gone.”
I was glad they had asked no one else at the Churchills. The Maynards had been over the day before. Miss Churchill received us very cordially. I explained what I had done, and made a small apology.