“I never, never tell them, sir,” she said.
“Good,” cried Simeon Pace. “A sensible girl wouldn’t, of course. Let me serve you some meat, Miss Azalea.”
And she understood clearly that she had given a tacit promise that she would not tell what she had seen; and Simeon Pace felt the reliable character of her, beneath her soft, girlish aspect, and trusted her.
CHAPTER V
THE SUMMERS
While they were at supper a strong cold wind sprung up, so that Mr. Pace had to heap wood on the fire. And afterward, when the two girls ran to the door, they could see that the sky had cleared and the stars were out, looking, it seemed, unusually large and bright and sociable.
“Why not go to prayer meeting?” said Azalea.
“At your church or mine?”
“Oh, if you don’t mind, Annie Laurie, at mine this time. Dear old Elder Mills is leaving, you know. You’ve heard how sick he is with the rheumatism, haven’t you? He’s going down to Florida where the climate will be better for him. They say he’s wonderful these last few weeks. He’s trying to say everything he can think of that will help the people he’s known so long. I love to hear people talk when they are really, really in earnest, don’t you?”
Annie Laurie looked at her friend understandingly.
“You are just like me, Azalea; you always want mountains to be higher than they really are, and stars brighter, and sermons deeper, and friends more loving. Nothing is ever quite big enough to suit me—nor quite hard enough.”