Olive unlocked the door, after having first surveyed her face to see that no tears were visible.
"Come in, if you want to; I'm drawing," and Bea accepted the ungracious invitation, thinking to herself, as Olive straightway took her seat and pencil, and returned to work—
"Now Olive's in one of her moods, I wonder if I can say anything," for though not yet seventeen, Bea was womanly and thoughtful, and Mrs. Dering had sometimes talked with her, about the unfortunate peculiarities of this sister's disposition, and asked her help in being patient, and trying to overcome it.
"We had a delightful time," began Bea, anxious to work aright. "'Prince' was such a dear old fellow and Mr. Phillips so kind. I'm so sorry you didn't go, Olive."
Nothing but pride kept Olive's face from brightening a little at this; she turned away, made a fierce dab at her subject's nose, and thought grimly:—"It's all very well to be sorry now, when the thing's all over; I wonder if she thinks that I believe she's sorry, anyhow."
"We went around by the river, and way up on the hill," continued Bea, after waiting a reasonable length of time for an answer. "Mr. Phillips says we may ride often."
"Did he?"
"Yes, wasn't it kind? you know Mrs. Phillips and the girls are going away and 'Prince' will need exercising."
"Of course."
"Hasn't mama come home yet?"