Thursday, the day set for the tea-party, was in Blue Bonnet’s estimation a perfect day. Wednesday had been decidedly hot; but during the night a sudden change had come, and to-day the air was clear and fresh, with a touch of the coming fall in it. It sent the blood thrilling through Blue Bonnet’s veins, and made her if anything more careless and inconsequent than usual.
All the morning the outdoor world was calling to her, getting in return more than one involuntary response. About noontime, Alec came whistling up the back path, Bob and Ben at his heels. Blue Bonnet was on the steps studying.
“Busy?” he asked.
“I’m through now, thank Fortune!”
“Then you can come?”
“Where?”
“Did you ever follow a brook?”
Blue Bonnet threw down her book and caught up her shade hat from a nearby chair. “Let’s start right away!”
They went down the path to where a gate opened into a wide open meadow, Blue Bonnet whistling to Solomon as they went.
At the foot of the meadow lay the brook; a sunny, quiet enough little brook, until, further on, it suddenly entered the woods, where it laughed and gurgled and tumbled headlong over rocks in the most delightful way.