“I suppose,” she went on, as Lucile took her hat and coat. “I suppose you girls had just about made up your minds I was never coming to Burleigh; six months is such a long time; but it seemed as if I could never get started.”
“Well, you’re here now,” said Lucile, gaily, “and that makes the six months seem like nothing at all.”
“How are your mother and father and Phil and everybody?” asked Mrs. Wescott, with a comprehensive sweep of her hand. “I want to know all about everybody.”
“Oh, they’re all right,” Lucile assured her, and then added, as an afterthought, “except, of course, Jim Keller’s dog, Bull.”
“What’s happened to Bull?” inquired young Mrs. Wescott, with smiling interest.
Indeed, everyone in Burleigh knew and feared Bull. His ferocity was famous through the countryside, or at least, had been until he had met his downfall a few days before.
“Come downstairs and I’ll tell you about it. It is still a little chilly upstairs.”
“All right,” agreed Mrs. Wescott. “Wait a minute; I must get my handkerchief first.” 38
A moment longer and they were in the spacious living-room, with its big library table and leather-covered chairs, and, best of all, glowing fire in the grate.
Mrs. Wescott looked toward the latter in pleased surprise. “Isn’t it snug here?” she said, slipping into one of the chairs before the fire. “A fire always giving the room a cheerful, homey look.”