“Yes.”
“Got a houseful of company? It seemed like that when we drove past. Overflow meeting on the porch!”
“Oh, yes, as usual.”
“What I wanted to know is--are there any young people among the visitors, that makes it a matter of courtesy for you to stay at home all afternoon?”
“No, they are all older people to-day, and a few little children.”
“Good! Then how would you like to have a little picnic, just we two? I want to get away from Victrola music and children’s questions and four walls, and I thought you might have a similar longing.”
“Mental telepathy, Martin! That’s just what I was thinking as I was out in the garden.”
“Then I’ll call for you and we’ll go up past the sandpit to that hilltop where the breeze blows even on a day like this.”
When Martin came for her she was ready, a lunch tucked under one arm, two old pillows in the other. She had given the red hair a few pats, added several hairpins, slipped off her white dress and buttoned up a pale green chambray one with cool white collar and cuffs. She stood ready, attractive, as Martin entered the lawn.
“Say!” he whistled. “You did that in short order! I thought it took girls hours to dress.”