"I feel that I should explain to you that I have a nervous dread of a thunder storm," he said, in that proper, grown-up way in which he speaks, but getting very red. "It completely upsets me at the time; I am afraid you think me a coward—" He broke off abruptly.
"If it is nervousness, why don't you do something for it?—go to a physician and get cured?" I answered shortly; it seemed to me so silly—"so girlie," as Jack says—to try to turn his behaviour off on nervousness.
"I am under a physician's care," he said eagerly; "and he says if I could only once—"
But just then the carriage that had taken Mr. Erveng to the train drove up to the door, and with an exclamation of pleasure Hilliard started forward to meet the lady and young girl who were getting out of it.
They were Mrs. Endicott and her daughter Alice, relatives of the Ervengs, and they had come to stay with them while some repairs were being made to their own house, which was farther along the beach.
It was such a relief to see a girl again; and she turned out to be just as nice as she could be. She and Hilliard are cousins, but she isn't at all like him in any way. In the first place, she is splendid looking,—tall and strong, and the picture of health, with the most beautiful colour in her cheeks; and she is so jolly and full of fun that we got on famously together.
Alice is a little over sixteen,—just one year older than I am,—and she has travelled almost everywhere with her parents (she's the only child, you see), all over America and in Europe. But she doesn't put on any airs about it; in fact, instead of talking of her travels, as I would ask her to do, she'd beg, actually coax me to tell her about my brothers and sisters, and the times we have at home,—it seems Hilliard has written her about us. She said she had never known such a large family, and she wanted me to describe each one, from Phil down to Alan.
On warm mornings we would sit on the beach in the shade of the rocks, and when Hilliard wasn't reading to us, somehow the conversation always got round to the family. Hilliard thinks a good deal of our boys, and he talked to Alice about them; he told her of our entertainment on Nora's birthday, and our "performances," and she seemed to enjoy hearing of it all. She asked questions, too, and said she felt as if she really knew us all.
Mrs. Endicott was almost as nice as Alice, and so kind! Why, almost every day she got up some amusement for us,—driving, or walking, or a picnic, or something. I really began to enjoy myself very much,—only that I didn't hear often enough from home. Nora's notes were very short,—just scraps; she said she was too busy to write more; and Jack never has shone as a letter writer. He'd say, "Nora had a circus with the 'kids' to-day,—will tell you about it when you come home;" or, "Something splendid has happened for Fee,—you shall have full particulars when you get back," and other things like that. Provoking boy! when I was longing to hear everything.
After the Endicotts came, I enjoyed myself so well that the time flew by, and almost before I knew it the last day but one of my visit at the beach had come. That afternoon, instead of going with Mrs. Endicott, Alice, and Hilliard, to see how the repairs were getting on at their cottage, I decided to remain at home. Thinking it over afterward, I could not have explained why I did not care to go; I didn't even remember the excuse I made. It could not have been the heat,—though it was extremely warm,—for a little while after they had gone I dressed for dinner, and started for a stroll along the beach.