That afternoon Pauline drove Hilary out to the big, busy, pleasant farm, called The Maples.
As they jogged slowly down the one principal street of the sleepy, old town, Pauline tried to imagine that presently they would turn off down the by-road, leading to the station. Through the still air came the sound of the afternoon train, panting and puffing to be off with as much importance as the big train, which later, it would connect with down at the junction.
"Paul," Hilary asked suddenly, "what are you thinking about?"
Pauline slapped the reins lightly across old Fanny's plump sides. "Oh, different things—traveling for one." Suppose Uncle Paul's letter should come in this afternoon's mail! That she would find it waiting for her when she got home!
"So was I," Hilary said. "I was wishing that you and I were going off on that train, Paul."
"Where to?" Paul asked. After all, it couldn't do any harm—Hilary would think it one of their "pretend" talks, and it would he nice to have some definite basis to build on later.
"Anywhere," Hilary answered. "I would like to go to the seashore somewhere; but most anywhere, where there were people and interesting things to do and see, would do."
"Yes," Pauline agreed.
"There's Josie," Hilary said, and her sister drew rein, as a girl came to the edge of the walk to speak to them.
"Going away?" she asked, catching sight of the valise.