“Well, how do you account for Sam? How could a boy like that come from such a family?”
“Mr. Summers says that there’s no inheritance for souls—that every soul comes fresh from the hand of God. Sam’s soul is too brave to be overcome by his surroundings. That’s all I can make out of it.”
Carin shook her head doubtfully.
“Well, maybe that’s so. Yet it seems to me there’s more of a mystery to it than that. Your Aunt Adnah may think he’s a ‘Disbrow boy,’ but he certainly doesn’t seem like it to me.”
They were turning in at the gate of The Shoals now, and Annie Laurie looked about her with delight. Gardeners were busy all over the place; fresh awnings of orange and black had been hung from the many windows; yellow tulips appeared in flaming companies along the walks and about the house. Chairs and tables of brown rattan were on the porches; swinging couches heaped with pillows invited one to take one’s ease; books and magazines were placed temptingly at hand. Annie Laurie thought what a contrast all this was to her own meager home, and gave a sharp little sigh. But she was determined to enjoy herself without stint for these two bright days.
And this, indeed, was easy to do. Luncheon was served to the girls in Carin’s studio, and there for the greater part of the afternoon the two read, sang and laughed together. Carin had at least three books which Annie Laurie “simply must read”; and Annie Laurie was insistent that Carin should do some painting, “beginning at the very beginning,” and show her how it was done.
“Then I’ll paint you,” declared Carin, and made her friend stand, straight and tall before a draping of red-brown velvet which was just a shade browner than Annie Laurie’s hair.
“But I ought to be a fine artist to do you justice,” Carin protested, “not just a silly niggling beginner. Just you wait, Annie Laurie! Some day you are going to be a beautiful woman, and by that time I hope to know enough to paint you the way you ought to be.”
Then there was a walk in the late afternoon, and tea with Mrs. Kitchell at the Industries, and then the stroll back in the lilac-tinted air, and the fun of dressing together for dinner.
Annie Laurie could hardly make her own toilet for watching Carin, as she came all fresh from her bath, in her dainty garments, and slipped into her simple, exquisite frock of clinging white silk. A maid came to tie her corn-colored scarf, and to wind the broad corn-colored ribbon about her wonderful hair, which was almost the same color, only full of light and shine as no ribbon ever could be. Her slender feet were in white, too, and about her neck was a necklace of clouded amber beads.