"Yes," returned the father, looking affectionately on his daughter, "she thrives wonderfully on mountains. I recollect, when we stood on the freezing summit of Washington, she expressed a wish to burrow among its rocks and pass a life-time there, listening to the winds o' nights, and other like charming diversions."
"I did not think her disposition so solitary," remarked young Williams.
"O, she was not going to dwell alone! She wanted one companion to share her habitation. I don't know who it was,—perhaps you were the doomed one!"
"I dare not presume to think Miss Florence would select me for a doom so blissful," returned he, gallantly. "Her choice would fall on some of my more fortunate neighbors."
"Rather say unfortunate," said Florence, coloring; "for in that light I think most people would regard the prospect of a life passed amid the clouds and storms of Mount Washington."
"Would you thus regard it, Lindenwood?" inquired young Williams, turning his gaze upon Edgar.
"I don't know," returned the latter. "It might prove an agreeable summer-home; but I think I would want to fly away on the approach of winter."
Major Howard drew forth his guide-book and occupied himself turning over the pages a few moments.
"We have achieved the Flume, the Pool, and the Basin to-day," said he at length. "Say, Lindenwood, where shall we go to-morrow? You are the pioneer of the band."
"I have thought, should the day prove fine," answered he, "it would be pleasant to make an excursion to the summit of Mount Lafayette, or the 'Great Haystack' mountain, as it is sometimes called, which lies several miles west from this point."