Mr. Ashe came forward. “Well,” he said, a little sadly, “it appears that I am to go back alone—this trip.”
CHAPTER XI
MY LADY BOUNTIFUL
But the return trip was not to be made yet; there was Thanksgiving—only a matter of days now—to come first, not to mention Christmas.
“A real New England Thanksgiving!” Blue Bonnet checked the words off on her fingers. “I’ve never had one of that kind, have I? The Boston relatives are coming! I’m rather scared of the Boston relatives; I’ve an idea they’ll be rather like Aunt Lucinda—only more so.”
She and her uncle were walking up and down the veranda in the twilight,—Mr. Ashe seemed to dislike going indoors quite as much as Blue Bonnet did. Delia had lighted up, and as they passed and re-passed the long windows they caught pleasant glimpses of mingled gas and firelight, and through the wide doorway, leading from sitting to dining-room, the table laid ready for supper.
Mr. Ashe, taking in half unconsciously all the quiet, homely touches, glanced down at his companion a little anxiously. “I reckon you’ll be having a lot of new experiences right along, Honey.”
Blue Bonnet felt the thought underlying the words, and the hand resting lightly on his arm tightened its pressure. “Don’t you worry, Uncle Cliff! Three hundred years—much less three—couldn’t make an Easterner of me for keeps. And after Thanksgiving, Christmas’ll be here in no time. You’d never have the heart to go back before Christmas?”
“Not back, Blue Bonnet, but away for a bit. There’s considerable business waiting on me right now in New York.”
“I wonder how it’ll seem on Christmas morning not to have Benita come tiptoeing ever so early into my room with the Christmas cake, baked just for me? Uncle Cliff, wouldn’t it be nice to send them a box?”