"It's a mutual miss, Emma," assured Grace. "I have thought of you a great deal and wished you were with me at home. Aside from not being able to have my dearest friends with me all the time, my happiness has been so complete this summer that I feel as though I ought to walk very softly, for fear of losing some part of it."
"I understand. It's always so. One wonders if it's even wise to mention it for fear of breaking the spell," mused Emma. "I suppose the best way to do is to plod steadily along and not think much about anything but the day's events. By the way, are you very sleepy?"
Grace shook her head. "Not a bit. On the contrary, I'm wide awake."
"Then let's doff our festival garb, clothe our magnificent selves in kimonos and have a talking-bee," proposed Emma joyfully. "I'll give you a faithful account of affairs in darkest Deanery, if you will agree to furnish me with an equally detailed account of Harloweville doings. Is it a go?"
"It is," acceded Grace with equal heartiness.
A little later, seated Turk fashion on Grace's bed, the two tried comrades indulged in one of the protracted talks that had invariably ended their day's work when together at Harlowe House. It was an extremely confidential session, yet there was one bit of information which Grace could not find it in her heart to divulge. Though it had been over a week since she had said good-bye to Tom Gray, aside from a brief letter written to her on the train just before his arrival at a little town some miles from the lumber camp, she had received no further communication from him. Within herself she argued that she had really no cause for alarm. No doubt Tom had been too busy to write. Perhaps he had written her, but, due to the isolation of the camp, had encountered difficulty in mailing a letter to her. She would have liked to put the situation before Emma, yet loyalty to love forbade her to speak of it even to this trusted friend.
CHAPTER IX
THE MEANING OF SEMPER FIDELIS
Father Time has an unfortunate habit of scudding along at a tremendously rapid pace over the delightful roads of life. It is only when the ways are rough and stony that he is prone to lag and linger. To the reunionists the prospect of a week spent together had offered limitless possibilities. Once that coveted period of time had become theirs, it proceeded to vanish in an alarming fashion. On Monday they had congratulated themselves and one another that six glorious days were still theirs. By Wednesday they had begun to mourn that only four were left them.