LOOKING FORWARD
"I don't believe you've heard a word I've been saying, Jack Welles!"
The boy on his knees before the tangled fishing tackle spread out on the lowest porch step, looked up alertly.
"Sure I heard," he protested. "Something or other is 'perfectly adorable.'"
Rosemary laughed. She had been sitting in the porch swing and now she came and camped on the middle step, chin in hand, regardless of the hot sunshine that turned her bronze hair to red gold.
"I suppose I did say that," she admitted. "But it really is, Jack. I don't believe Mother would call it an exaggeration."
Jack Welles frowned at a tangle of line. "I heard you," he said again, "but I didn't get where this place is—I saw you and your mother going off with Hugh in the car this morning," he added.
"I'll untangle that for you," offered Rosemary, holding out her hand for the line. "We went to see Rainbow Hill and now Mother is crazy to go there for the summer. Hugh is as pleased as pleased can be, for he wants her to go somewhere before Mr. Greggs starts the work here."
"Where's Rainbow Hill?" asked Jack, watching the slim fingers as they worked at the waxed silk thread so woefully knotted.
"That's the best part of the whole plan," Rosemary assured him, taking his knowledge of a plan for granted. "It's only about eight or nine miles from here and twelve from Bennington. Hugh can easily come out in the car. You must have seen the house, Jack—it is right on the tip-top of that hill to the right, the little white clapboarded house you see as soon as you pass the cross-roads."