The evening was so mild that they settled themselves again on the porch. The men resumed their discussion of the war; David pored over a bulletin about corn; Dick snuggled down in a corner with “The Days of Bruce�; Anne and Patsy brought out their Red Cross knitting, and whispered and giggled together. Sweet William put a stool beside his mother’s chair and cuddled against her knee, with Scalawag at his feet.
Mrs. Osborne left the discussion of public affairs to the menfolks. She was intent on her own task, the making out of a program for the Village Literary Society. What pleasant meetings they would have, reading about the Plantagenet kings, supplementing Hume’s history with Waverley novels and Shakespeare plays. She smiled and folded her paper.
As the twilight deepened, Dick shut his book and grinned at the girls.
“Too bad not to have your company on my walk to-day, after you promised it, too!�
“Oh! we thought of a nicer place to go, where we wouldn’t scratch our faces,� said Anne.
“We’ll go with you some day, after you tear down all the barbed wire and briers,� said Patsy.
“I dare you!� Dick defied them.
“You say that because you know I’m going away so soon,� said Anne.
“You’re coming back in June. I dare and double dare you for then,� replied Dick. “I’ll be going to this place—oh! right along.�
“All right,� said Anne. “We’ll follow you; see if we don’t. We’ll not take a dare; will we, Patsy-pet?�