“Yes, but she was—Miss Lucinda! Come to think of it, my lady, you are not precisely in a position to lecture me for not trying.”
“But I—” Blue Bonnet caught herself up; “I don’t want to lecture anyone—to-day,” she ended, and leaning back again she looked thoughtfully up at the soft stretch of blue showing between the tree tops.
She wished Alec would up and fight Boyd on his own ground! But then, Boyd had stolen his ammunition. Good subjects for the Sargent were not lying around waiting to be picked up; no wonder, when one remembered all the papers that had been written since the originating of the competition.
Blue Bonnet caught her breath; suppose—
But he would not take her subject. Very well, he would have to be managed. She could not help feeling a very real sense of regret. She had meant to begin writing her paper to-morrow morning; she had become honestly interested in the doing of it, and she was looking forward to Grandmother’s and Aunt Lucinda’s surprise and pleasure when she told them. As for the girls—
Fortunately, she had said nothing about it. There would not be time to hunt up another subject; besides, she didn’t want any other, she knew how Alec felt about that; still, she was offering him a really new idea. It was the manner of offering it that was troubling her now.
“We aren’t very talkative, are we?” she said.
“We don’t seem to be,” Alec agreed.
“Shall I tell you about Cousin Tracy’s medals? He has a fine collection;” and presently she had him interested in the short accounts Mr. Winthrop had given her, introducing—much as he had done—the subject of the Alamo, and the fact that the father of one of its heroes had been a Woodford man.
“I never knew that,” Alec said.