“No. We are to go almost immediately,—as soon as we can get ready. Uncle Wickes is already on his way, and Aunt Esther wants to stop a little while in California before we sail. We shall probably be at Yokohama, or some such port, wherever the captain is stationed, and you know what lovely times they have—dances and such things—on board a man-of-war.”
“Well,” replied Persis, “I don’t say but that it is a delightful chance for you, but oh, Lisa, we shall miss you so.”
“Don’t Perse,” Lisa besought her, putting her arms around her; “I shall not be able to stand it. I shall give in at once if you do that; and indeed it is better for me to go. It is, truly. I can’t tell you all the whys and wherefores that decide me; but mamma knows, and she thinks it is best.”
Persis therefore said no more, but lent herself to the task of helping her sister to prepare for her long journey. Soon nothing else was talked of; even Persis’s anticipations of class-day dwindled into insignificance before Lisa’s wonderful trip, and early in May she was on her way.
A few evenings after her departure, Mr. Danforth called and was told of the breach made in the family circle. Mrs. Holmes watched him narrowly as she gave the information; but, although he was much interested and said he quite envied Lisa her good fortune, there was no shadow of regret in his words. On the contrary, he seemed quite pleased, and was really more concerned in Persis’s preparations for class-day; and Mrs. Holmes, when she wrote to her absent daughter that evening, said, “We miss you sorely, dear child; but I am glad this opportunity has come for you to see the world.” And then she wrote of Mr. Danforth’s call in such a way that Lisa, reading, felt a few hot tears come to her eyes as she crumpled the letter in her hand. But she smoothed it out and kissed it directly after. “Dearest, dearest mother,” she said, “there is no friend like you, for even when you give a bitter pill you smother it in honey.”
“You’ll come to the commencement, won’t you, Mr. Dan?” asked Persis. “We’re going to have something quite different from the conventional plan this year. We are going to have a regular Greek setting, and all the graduates are going to wear Greek costumes. Basil is going to show me about mine. We are going to have our themes written on long scrolls and everything as much in keeping as possible. It will be when roses are in bloom, and we can have such lovely rosy decorations.”
“I shall be delighted to come,” Mr. Danforth assured her, with evident heartiness.
“We are going to bury our Cæsar under a big rose-bush. You know Miss Adams’s grounds are beautiful, and some of the rose-bushes are perfect trees. We are going to find a tall urn to put on the bier for the ashes, so it will be real Greecey. No,” and the girl rippled out a little laugh, “I don’t mean that. I mean it will be truly Grecian. What a difference one little word makes. I like to study the value of words.”
Mr. Danforth responded appreciatively. “Yes; I heard you were a specially good student in your English.”
“That speech of mine sounded like it. Who told you,—Miss Adams?”