“Yes,” I answered.
“And I know just how Miss Churchill is giving us this. So far as the money goes she will never feel it. We will afford her pleasure, satisfaction and delight in return, which will make it quite an even thing.”
We remained three weeks and it was enchanting. The great ocean with its ceaseless surges and swells, its floods of molten gold at sunset, the showers and one tremendous storm, the walks and rides on the sands, the short sails hither and thither, the quaint cottages, the strange people from almost everywhere, some of whom we soon became acquainted with, the newness and the variety was splendid! We enjoyed every moment. Sometimes I felt quite wild indeed, as if I could race along the sea sands and shout with the wildest of the birds.
The last week was the crowning point. Winthrop came and Miss Churchill took us to Newport for one night and two days. There was elegance and fashion at the hotel to be sure, but Fan in her pretty white over-dress and the bloom of her fresh, sweet youth, attracted many a glance of admiration on the one side, and almost envy from some of the worn and faded women. It was a bit of Arabian Nights’ Entertainment brought into our own lives.
Miss Lucy did improve ever so much. She could not bathe to be sure, but the pungent air revived and strengthened her. We were all so bright and happy, so full of fun and whims and oddities. There is a fascinating queerness about almost every person when the true self comes out and you forget that any one is watching you.
It was so delightful that we came home with almost a sigh, until we reached the familiar places. It was the first time that we had ever been so long away from mamma, and when we thought of that our hearts were full to overflowing.
There was Mrs. Whitcomb in the midst helping to keep house, filling up our vacant places.
“You need not think you are the only ones who can have a holiday!” she exclaimed laughingly.
Oh, the blessedness of being right among the accustomed faces, to be kissed and kissed again, to be pulled about hither and yon, to be shown this and that, “which was not so when you went away;” the atmosphere of home-living and thinking, which is so different from railroad cars and hotels, or even other people’s cottages.
“But the sea still sings in my ears,” I said to Fan as I laid my head on my pillow.