THE WHITE BAG
Edna's responsibilities and nap-time came to an end simultaneously, and Dunham proposed that they take their book to the Fir Ledges, as a spot where the waves were not too noisy and the outlook was superb for such luxurious mortals as need lend their ears only, and not their eyes, to the story.
They came into the living-room as he made his suggestion, and saw Miss Lacey just coming downstairs.
"Where is Sylvia?" asked Edna.
"I don't believe she's up yet," replied Miss Martha. "She went to her room at the same time I did, and she certainly did look tired out. I begged her to show common sense and not run around so incessantly. I told her to lie down and not move until she was rested. Foolish child! She's so in love with this place she seems to think she's wasting time unless she's on the keen jump from morning until night."
"Wouldn't it rest her to come with us?" asked Dunham. "We're going to the Fir Ledges to read."
"Well, I don't know,"—Miss Lacey tossed her head doubtfully,—"it's quite a walk down there, and her door is tight shut."
John looked at Edna.
"I suppose the kindest thing to do would be to let her alone," said Edna. "When she comes down. Miss Martha, please tell her where we are, and ask her to join us. Perhaps she can bring you and Judge Trent with her. I see he is still motionless in that hammock."
"Yes, tell her to be sure to come," said Dunham; and the two left the house and started off through the wood road.