“Same here, as Clyde says. I must write to Caro or she will feel neglected. I wish the dear child wouldn’t be so jealous of you.”
“Jealousy is a mean trait, on a par with ingratitude. One is caused by an inflated ego, the other by a thoughtless one.”
“Where did you learn so much?”
“Read it in a book.”
“Book spoke the truth. To be jealous one must consider one’s self worthy of first place, of satisfying every side of the other’s nature, and possessing so many excellent traits that nobody else could stand the same chance in another’s affections.”
“Spoken like a very oracle. Wise little noddle, yours is, Ellen. You think real big thoughts.”
“I’ve had plenty of time for such, and have not lived in the frivolous atmosphere that some others have,” returned Ellen saucily.
“Out upon your frivolous atmosphere! Am I not doing all I can to escape from it? I see where I shall become a perfect prig if I allow myself to indulge in such moralizing. Away with priggishness, jealousy, and all such stuff. To-day is ours for romance!”
“Ah, yes, romance!” echoed Ellen.
They made an early start that afternoon, for it may be said that Mabel was just as curious as Ellen. The air blew fresh from the sea, so that they did not need to loiter by the way because of undue heat. They reached the house without adventure. All was as silent, as depressing, as before, but this time the two did not stop to explore, but made straight for the cupboard, which Ellen reached first.