"Yes. Has she got a court?"
"A splendid one. Haven't you noticed? Just behind the osage-trees."
"Oh, we'll go and play some morning."
"There! you see, grandma, he doesn't think he's too old or too busy to play games. But I can't go in the mornings. I have lessons with grandma, you know, till one o'clock, and Julia's at school till half-past two, except on Saturdays."
"So am I," said Emmie, sadly. "I wish I were going East, and needn't begin a term that I couldn't finish."
Val was conscious of something like a qualm at not having thought about the East, or even the opera, for days. But wait! she would find an opportunity of taking cousin Ethan into her confidence. Then the great scheme would resume its former gigantic proportions. Hitherto, whenever she had been alone with her cousin, she had been seized with a strange shyness, an excitement that put everything else out of her head except that here was she, and here was he. It was very queer and very disconcerting, but it was a heavenly feeling, all the same.
"Here's Miss Tibbs coming," said Emmie, wishing to acquaint their guest with all the leading characteristics of the place. "She's quite the most hideous—ahem!—well, she's a very plain lady. And oh! do you see that man going into the red-brick house?"
"That's Jimmie Battle," said Mrs. Gano.
"Yes. Val, show us how he talks when he tries to be English, and then forgets."
"Oh yes," said Val, nothing loath. "He was telling something funny that happened: 'I laahfed and I laahfed, and, oh golly! how I laffed!'"