“Well,” she answered, “Ma and I were in these mountains long before you were, and I at least have not been out once since we came. I thought that while you were away would be a good time to go.”
Joshua glowed within. Her words implied that if he were not there she would be lonesome.
“And besides, Ma and I want to buy some things.”
“I can haul anything special that you want from Spur,” he suggested. He had suddenly remembered that Jack Montgomery was still in Los Angeles.
“You could carry in under your arm what Ma and I want to get,” she informed him. “And besides, a man could never buy them—and you wouldn’t find them at Spur. You don’t know much about women, poet-astronomer. We get more fun out of buying things, or merely just pawing over them on the counters, and getting all fussed up with indecision over what we’d better choose, than any man can imagine. And then usually we buy the wrong thing and have to exchange it—and get more thrills.”
Another silence fell. Throughout its duration Madge looked across the sunny waters of the lake. Then she suddenly turned her reddish-brown eyes on Joshua and told the truth.
“I had a letter from Mary Montgomery last mail day. She has invited us down. She’s Jack’s only sister and doesn’t care for camp life. But we like her, and she likes us. And—and we’ve decided to accept her invitation.”
“Oh,” breathed Joshua. And after a lengthy pause: “Is—is Jack going to be in camp this spring?”
“Not very much, Mary wrote. He’s no keener for camp life than she is. He lives with his mother and sister in a swell apartment in the city.”
“A swell apartment, huh? Madge, I don’t like that word swell. I don’t know that I ever heard you use it before. It sounds like— Well, you reminded me of a restaurant cashier after a night of joy-riding—that’s all.”