“You don’t say so! I was just tellin’ Betsy, Loomis is goin’ to get married; and then I want you to come back to me, Rosalie.”
A creeping nausea stole around the girl’s heart.
“Thank you,” she said, “but I’ve grown so conceited I believe I can make my own living.”
Betsy watched her in fond silence; and Rosalie returned to her side. “I just looked in to hug you and to say I’m glad,” she said. “I’ll come again, soon.”
“What are you going to do to-day?” asked Betsy.
“I’m going canoeing with Mr. Nixon.”
“With Mr. Nixon,” repeated Betsy.
She was sorry they could not speak alone. She saw by the girl’s face there was much she was repressing.
“The people are planning a Yellowstone picnic with Captain Salter,” continued Rosalie. “We’re to sail to some far-away beach and have a clambake. Don’t forget that you’re a Yellowstoner even if you are a bride.”
“Rosalie,” returned Betsy, “if the people are kind enough to suggest my goin’ on any o’ these excursions, I want you to tell ’em that I’d rather not.”