“O, Scott! Are you killed?”
CHAPTER XIV.
BRIGHT HOPES.
It was June’s seventeenth birthday. She stood on the broad veranda gazing up at the sky. The day was not as bright as June wished it to be, for the sun would peep out now and then to stay but a moment, then hide behind a cloud, which seemed to waft a breeze softly down on June’s bright, happy face.
“I hope it will be a pleasant evening,” she said, half aloud, “for it is so much nicer to have a party when the weather is fine, and I shall almost be out of patience if it rains.”
Scott and Paul were just coming up the shady walk.
“Will you not take the time to visit me a little while this morning?” she asked. “You know I shall never be seventeen years old again, and I would like to speak to you of the party I shall give to-night.”