“Valley Green,” replied John. “Let’s go there and stay for lunch.”
They left the park and approached the vicinity of the famous road-house by a roundabout way. John drew the car up to the roadside as they reached the park boundary again; and they proceeded on foot along the narrow path by the creek side until they reached the bridge above Valley Green, where they crossed over.
“I never saw a more delightful place!” exclaimed Marjorie, when she caught a glimpse of the lovely old house among the trees by the roadside. “Can we have lunch on that nice shady porch? And look at the ducks! And swans, too! Aren’t they beautiful?”
John saw that they were all comfortably seated, and then went inside to arrange for luncheon. In several minutes he returned, laughing.
“I guess they think we’re crazy for wanting to have the lunch out on the porch—just as if it were really summer.”
“Oh!” cried Marjorie, suddenly becoming considerate, and turning to Mrs. Hadley, “I never thought to ask you whether you objected. If it’s too cool—”
“No, I think it will be very comfortable,” smiled the other. “Don’t think of changing for me.”
“Then we can watch the swans, and hear the water bubbling against the rocks, and hear the birds—haven’t you noticed them?—and just have a jolly time all around.”
John beamed to see Marjorie happy again; it was so unusual to see her otherwise that her former depression had been the more noticeable. Before long a waitress appeared and commenced laying a cloth upon one of the round tables. She was young, rosy-cheeked, and wore a freshly starched apron and a dainty white cap.
Marjorie took in all these details with thoughtful eyes. Never before, she realized, had she noticed just how a waitress should act.