“Yes.”
“Let me see them, won’t you?”
“Certainly not.”
“Oh, do; I’m wild to read them.” Her eyes lost their unconcern as she pleaded.
“You know I am in earnest when I say that you will not have that pleasure. What’s the use teasing?”
He was drumming on a rock with his boot heel, as he leaned against a shrub. The stream that caught the waterfall laughed and lathered over its rocks as it flowed beside them. They were of the most delicate tintings, pale lavenders, green, and pink and blue. Glenn Andrews was gazing at them.
“Did you ever see such pretty shades as the rocks of mountain regions take on? I’ve often wondered what caused their coloring.”
With an aggrieved air, Esther allowed the drift of interest to turn at his bidding.
“I supposed rocks were alike the world over.”
“That’s because you only know your own beautiful ones; some day you’ll see the ugly ones; then you needn’t bother to wonder what made them so. Just kick them out of the way and forget them.”