"I know; but that sounds so—so—" There was a long pause; then Genevieve, with a quivering sigh, rose slowly and left the room.
Mrs. Kennedy, for some unapparent reason, smiled—but there were tears in her eyes.
The Hexagon Club took a long ride the next day. Five of them talked again of Cordelia's paper, and four begged Cordelia to tell what she had said about them. If Genevieve, alone, was unusually silent, nobody, apparently, noticed it. They were riding by themselves to-day. They had invited none of the boys or other girls to join them.
It was when the ride was over, and when Genevieve had almost reached the Kennedy driveway, that she said wistfully, stroking the mare's neck:
"Topsy, I just couldn't. I just couldn't! It sounded so—so—And, Topsy, you couldn't, if you'd seen how awfully happy she looked!"
"What did Cordelia say?" asked Mrs. Kennedy, when Genevieve came into the house a little later. There was no hint in the lady's voice of the hope that was in her heart.
"I—I didn't tell her, Aunt Julia," stammered Genevieve. Then, with a playful whimsicality that did not in the least deceive Aunt Julia's ears, she added: "Who wants that old prize, anyhow?"
It was a beautiful smile, then, that illumined Aunt Julia's face, and it was a very tender kiss that fell on Genevieve's forehead.
"That's my brave Genevieve—and I'm sure you'll never regret it, my dear!" she said.