Basil Phillips was a quiet, shy boy, who felt very ill at ease when Persis fixed her earnest gaze upon him. Mellicent drooped her lids over her blue eyes, only lifting them once or twice as she saw Porter looking at her admiringly. This latter boy was quite the least confused of the young people, being a lad afraid of absolutely nothing, not even a girl, and his bright, wide-awake manner and keen appreciation of fun made all three of the girls feel more at home with him than with his brother.
After all, it was Persis who paved the way to a more easy footing, for, as they left the dining-room, she tossed an apple in Porter’s direction, and he dexterously caught it, sending it back to her, so that they were soon engaged in a merry game in which Basil presently joined, and they were all on good terms in a little while.
“Say, have you a wheel?” asked Porter.
“No,” replied Persis, regretfully. “I am just wild for one; but grandma thinks they are entirely too boyish for me, and mamma will not consent to my having one while grandma objects. I think maybe—just maybe—I’ll have one at Christmas.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Porter: “you can learn on mine. We have new ones—beauties. Mamma gave them to us as a parting gift. I’ll teach you.”
Persis shook her head. “I couldn’t do that unless I knew mamma and papa consented, and I should hate to hurt grandma’s feelings. I’d rather wait till she comes around. You know girls are only beginning to ride in this town, and grandma isn’t quite used to the idea.”
Porter opened his eyes. “My!” he said; “you must think a heap of your grandmother.”
“We do,” replied Persis. “She has always made her home with us ever since mamma and papa were married, and she does such lovely things for us that I should be ashamed to make her unhappy.”
“She’s awfully old-fashioned, I suppose,” rejoined Porter.
“Well, ye-es, rather so; but she tells us jolly stories about old times. You don’t know what exciting things she knows about our Revolutionary ancestors.”