“Why of course they were disappointed,” chirped the little woman, endeavoring to tuck up the flying strands of her gray hair; “but when I told them how you felt it a duty to rest absolutely for a week, they understood. I told them how I disliked to leave you alone, but that you never could think of yourself, and were determined I should have the pleasure, and so I came; and oh, Laura, it was the most lovely sail; I did wish every minute for you!”
Mrs. Bruce in her chastened state drank in the praise which she knew was sincere.
“Lavinia Frost is really a much more agreeable person to have about than Betsy,” she thought.
Those clear eyes of Betsy’s which had always seemed to read her through and through, appeared to her mental vision now as she mounted the stairs after her cousin, and followed her to her room, remaining with her while the visitor repaired the ravages of wind and wave.
“Do you think Mrs. Nixon enjoyed the excursion?” asked Mrs. Bruce.
Miss Frost raised her hands and dilated her eyes expressively. “I’m afraid not! She’s not a good sailor; but the young people—Oh, what a good time they did have, Laura!”
A little contracting pain, grown familiar, seized the listener.
“Go on. Tell me about it,” she replied quietly.
“Well, you know how amusing Mr. Nixon always is,” began Miss Frost, spreading cold cream over her sunburn; “(so like you, dear Laura, to give me this cream). He and Miss Maynard—such an elegant girl, Miss Maynard—and dear Irving, and that lovely creature Miss Vincent, all four sang together.”