“He just loves grandma,” returned Persis. “He told Basil so.”
“Well, I am very glad,” Lisa averred. “It doesn’t concern me anyway. He never could be a leader of fashion like Ned Carew.”
“I wouldn’t call him a leader. I would call him just the opposite,” remarked Persis, her mouth dimpling.
“What would you call him, pray?”
“The off ass,” responded Persis, impudently.
“You are perfectly shocking,” pronounced Lisa, sailing out of the room and taking her place on the balcony where she could overlook the water.
“That was rather a shameless speech,” Persis admitted to herself. “I don’t believe I’ll ever learn to be careful of Lisa’s beautiful smooth feathers. I forgot that she considers Ned Carew one of her special admirers. How she can like such a flavorless, insipid creature I can’t imagine. He always reminds me of sugar and water. But I can’t lose that sunset, Lisa mad or Lisa not mad.” And Persis walked out on the balcony where her sister sat. “Come, let’s go down to the beach,” she said, in a conciliatory tone. “Don’t be mad, Lisa. I’ll borrow Annis’s wheel and we’ll take a little try at riding.” And Persis, bending to look at her sister, was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Why, Lisa, what is the matter?” she inquired, solicitously. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I? It never occurred to me that you were so very fond of Edwin Carew,” she added, in a half-puzzled way.
“Edwin Carew! I hate him!” cried Lisa. “I hate men anyhow, and I despise this place. I wish I could go home and stay by myself.”
“Why, you dear, homesick thing,” said Persis, caressingly. “Don’t feel lonely, sissy. Basil wants some one to ride with him. Take my wheel and go, won’t you? I’m sure it will cure your blues.”