"And what a day, Billy!" answered Thayor, rubbing his hands in boyish glee.
"Just about as nice as they make them. You look happy, Mr. Thayor, and you look hearty—that's best of all."
"I am, Billy—who wouldn't be well and happy a morning like this? And I've got a piece of news for you, too—good news; Mrs. Thayor is coming along with us. How will the new trail be—a little rough for her, do you think?"
"Not a bit of it! Clear going all the way—besides it isn't more than two miles there and back. Freme has made a clean job of it. There's a short swamp just before we get to the pond, but I guess we can manage to get the ladies across without their getting wet."
"Oh, that air—just smell it, Billy!" reiterated the owner of Big Shanty enthusiastically. Think of the poor people in the city who have none of it. I must send for Randall as soon as we get settled, and some of those fellows we met at The Players that day, and let them have a whiff of it—do them a lot of good. Randall loves it. Poor boy—he needs a change now worse than I did. And have you seen Mrs. Thayor this morning?"
"No."
"Well—you never saw her look better; she tells me she slept splendidly. Why, think of it, my boy, she actually came down to breakfast—a thing I have not known her to do in years."
"I'm mighty glad to hear Mrs. Thayor is better," returned Billy thoughtfully—he wished it might include her manners. "She did not seem well yesterday or the day before."
"No—one of her old headaches. It must have been pretty hot, even in the 'Wanderer.' Here they are now!"
Alice and Margaret appeared on the veranda.