“Come over here, Ann,” called Maurice after a little, when the singing had stopped. They were a little tired, those active young people. A whole day of going had made this soothing motion upon the waves the most restful entertainment that Mr. Bentley could have provided. Maurice stepped around one or two of his friends, to hold a hand to Ann and lead her to the seat which, he said, he had “just reserved”. “You have seen alligators and Indians, Ann, you tell me,—now come and show me the constellations.”
“‘Constellations’,” repeated Jack to Suzanne. “Did it ever strike you that Maurice is pretty well interested in his cousin?”
“Yes. He is crazy about her, and has been ever since she first came to our house.”
“What do you think of it?”
“Mother seems to think it all right. First cousins do marry, you know. Of course, Maury never said anything to me about it. But I can’t help noticing lately, and Mother made a little remark that surprised me the other day. One would have thought that she hoped Maury would fall in love with Ann.”
“Doesn’t she like Ann?”
Suzanne was not quite ready to tell Jack her mother’s attitude toward Ann, so she managed an evasive reply to this question.
Meanwhile Maurice and Ann occupied a wicker seat made for two. “I’m not sure that I remember much about the winter sky,” Ann began.
“And I could not think of constellations to save my neck,” replied Maurice. “That was just an excuse to get you here, Ann. It deceived no one, either, if you are anxious to have me truthful. Jack gave me a look that I understood. I want to tell you about my talk with Father. It was certainly surprising.”