CHAPTER XVIII
A Talk
SHEALEY and Beecham captured Roy Henning and took him for a long stroll through the woods that Sunday afternoon. He, in the keen enjoyment of witnessing nature once again awake from its long winter slumber, for a time forgot his annoyances, and was the merriest of the three. The time passed as only a bright holiday can pass with the light-hearted.
Now there was a hunt for the nimble squirrel, which always got safely away. Anon there was a plunge into the thickest coppice for spring flowers. From these dense undergrowths the three more than once emerged minus the treasures they sought, and plus a number of scratches on hands and face, and with not a little damage to Sunday suits. In the sunny spots they found the first delicate fern fronds. In one particularly romantic spot they found a number of beautiful fungi. Jack Beecham dexterously made a little birch-bark box, which he filled with soft green moss, carefully placing his treasures therein. In their journey they were lucky enough to come across some morels, and one or two of those vegetable curiosities, the earth-star. With these boys a ramble into the country was much more than so many steps taken to a certain spot, and so many back again. Their studies had sharpened their powers of outdoor observation, so that a walk was an intellectual exercise as well as a physical one.
Many times during that afternoon Roy recalled
the interview with his cousin a few minutes before starting, but with a certain determination he put the matter from his mind for the present, intent on giving himself entirely to the enjoyment of the beauties of nature on an ideal spring day, and to the pleasant companionship of two very delightful fellow-students. For a time he forgot all about Garrett.
When the journey was near its end; when the tired and healthy, hungry three were once more nearing the college grounds, the thoughts of what he had said and done with regard to his cousin, and that same cousin's noncommittal responses, once more filled Roy's mind and made him thoughtful and reserved again.
“There you are,” scolded Jack Beecham; “I do declare, Roy, you ought to live in the woods altogether. As soon as you come near home you at once put on a long face, turn down the corners of your mouth, and look as sour as—as vinegar and water.”
“Yes,” added Tom Shealey, “I'm going to call you in future Old Glum—that's the only name that suits you now. What on earth is the use of being so sober and somber about things?”
“Just at present,” answered Roy, “I do not think I have anything to make me unusually cheerful; nothing certainly that would make me dance and sing with joy.”