At the latter, Alec showed Blue Bonnet all his favorite pictures, laughing over her comments, which were not always favorable; and the two wandered about from room to room, while Miss Clyde rested.
“It’s all been perfectly lovely,” Blue Bonnet declared warmly, as the train drew into Woodford station that evening.
“It has been jolly,” Alec agreed. “Thanks ever so much, Miss Clyde.”
“We must go again,” Miss Clyde answered.
“Grandmother,” Blue Bonnet said just before bedtime, looking up from the piazza steps, where she had been sitting in silence for some moments, “it’s very uncomfortable, not being friends with people.”
“Who aren’t you friends with, dear?”
“I wasn’t friends—altogether—with Aunt Lucinda this morning; but—well, she certainly did behave beautifully this afternoon.”
The darkness hid the quick smile on Mrs. Clyde’s face.
Saturday was a fairly uneventful day; but by Sunday morning, Blue Bonnet was entirely herself again. It was a beautiful morning and she was up and out early, coming in very late to breakfast, her arms full of wild flowers and bracken, her dress torn, her hair blown and tangled.