“Course you couldn't! What a foolhead I am! The doctor said you needed rest and quiet, and Washin'ton is about as quiet as the Ostable Cattle Show. Well, what do you say to the White Mountains?”
“In winter? No, Daniel, if I went anywhere I should like to go to—to—”
“Where, Serena? Just name it and I'll buy the tickets.”
“Daniel, I'd rather go to Trumet than anywhere else.”
Captain Dan could scarcely believe it.
“WHAT!” he cried. “Trumet? You want to go to Trumet, Serena? YOU?”
“Yes. I've been wanting to go for some time. I never told you; I wouldn't even admit it to myself; but I've thought about it a great deal. I was getting so tired, so sick of all the going about and the dressing up and the talking, talking all the time. I longed to be somewhere where there was nothing going on and where you and I could be together as we used to be. And, oh, Daniel—”
“Yes, Serena? Yes?”
“Oh, Daniel, since I've been really sick, since I've been getting better and could think at all, I've been thinking more and more about our old house at Trumet, and how nice and comfortable we were there, and what pleasant evenings you and I used to have together. It was home, Daniel, really and truly home, and this place never has been, has it?”
“You bet it hasn't! It's been—well, never mind, but it wasn't home. Lordy, but I'm glad to hear you talk this way, Serena! I haven't thought anything else since we first landed, but I never imagined you did.”