G.
Mid-afternoon on Angel Island.
Four women sat in the Honeymoon House, sewing. Outside the world still lay in sunshine, the land cut by the beginning of shadow, the sea streaked with purple and green.
“Why didn’t you bring the children?” Julia, asked.
Lulu answered. “Honey and Frank were going in swimming this morning, and they said they’d take care of them. I’m glad to get Honey-Boy off my hands for an afternoon.”
“And why hasn’t Peachy come?” Julia asked. “I stopped as I went by,” Lulu explained. “Oh, Julia, I wish you didn’t live way off here—it takes us an hour of crawling to pull ourselves along the path. Angela hadn’t waked up yet. It was a longer nap than usual. Peachy said she’d come just as soon as she opened her eyes. I went in to look at her. Oh, she’s such a darling, smiling in her sleep. Oh, I do hope I have a girl-baby sometime.”
“I do, too,” said Clara. “Peterkin’s fun, of course. But I can’t do the things for a boy that I could for a girl.”
“I’d rather have boys,” Chiquita said; “they’re less trouble.”
“Would you rather have boys or girls, Julia?” Lulu asked.
“Girls!” said Julia decisively. “A big family of girls.”