In the Mountains

by Elizabeth Von Arnim

'Talk?' repeated Dolly, looking up at me with a smile.

'Yes. Say things. How are we ever to be friends if we don't say things? Don't you want to be friends, Dolly?'

'Of course,' said Dolly, smiling.

Mrs. Barnes put her cup down hastily. 'But are we not—' she began, as I knew she would.

'Real friends,' I interrupted. 'Why not,' I said, 'let us have a holiday from Merivale to-day, and just sit together and talk. Say things,' I went on, still determined to be natural, yet already a little nervous. 'Real things.'

'But has the reading—is there any other book you would pref—do you not care about Merivale?' asked Mrs. Barnes, in deep concern.

'Oh yes,' I assured her, leaving off being natural for a moment in order to be polite, 'I like him very much indeed. I only thought—I do think—it would be pleasant for once to have a change. Pleasant just to sit and talk. Sit in the shade and—oh well, say things.'

'Yes,' said Dolly. 'I'd love to.'

'We might tell each other stories, like the people in the Earthly Paradise. But real stories. Out of our lives.'

'Yes,' said Dolly again. 'Yes. I'd love to.'