"Oh, so much, Miss Whitridge. I assure you that such novel experiences don't come my way very often. I was saying to my mother this morning that to cast off the shackles of business and become, as it were, a child of nature, is delightful, such a charming episode in one's life, isn't it?"
"Charming indeed," returned Gwen, glancing down demurely at the green and yellow golf stockings. "Shall you be here all summer, Mr. Mitchell?"
"For the greater part of it. My mother has not been well and the doctor has prescribed Maine air and quiet, so I have promised to keep her company for a while. Some friends at Bar Harbor are expecting me in August. It doesn't do to live too long away from civilization, does it?"
"Well, I don't know; it depends upon what you call being civilized."
"Oh, the regulation thing, of course; living in comfortable, well-furnished rooms, eating proper fare, dining out, and going to places of amusement, meeting your friends at clubs and at social functions."
"Wearing well cut clothes, walking down Commonwealth Avenue in a silk hat and frock coat," returned Gwen with gravity.
"Yes, yes, that sort of thing. I see you understand. But it is my principle to fall in with the customs of whatever place I happen to be in, and that is why I dress for the island."
"I see you do," responded Gwen. "Very commendable I am sure, Mr. Mitchell. Is your mother much of an invalid? Can't she enjoy being here?"
"Oh, yes, she enjoys it in a measure. She thinks the air very invigorating, and she is fond of her cousins. She hasn't ventured to walk over this rough ground, so she sits on the porch generally. She has her fancy-work and that interests her."
"How fortunate," murmured Gwen.