“Of course not—all the roads lead to Asheville. We can ask the way to the house you want, when we reach the little stopping place at the foot of Mount Mitchell.”
“Gee, Kid, you're a wonder!” he exclaimed admiringly. “Couldn't get along without you, now could I?”
“I hope not, sir!”
“You bet I couldn't! We'll start right away. The roads will give us a jolt——”
He turned suddenly to go.
“Wait—wait a minute, dear,” she pleaded. “You haven't seen this gorgeous view to the southwest, with Mount Pisgah looming in the center like some vast cathedral spire—look, isn't it glorious?”
“Fine! Fine!” he responded in quick, businesslike tones.
“You can look for days and weeks and not begin to realize the changing beauty of these mountains, clothed in eternal green! Just think, dear, Mount Pisgah, there, is forty miles away, and it looks as if you could stroll over to it in an hour's walk. And there are twenty-three magnificent peaks like that, all of them more than six thousand feet high——”
She paused with a frown. He was neither looking nor listening. He had fallen into a brown study; his mind was miles away.
“You're not listening, Jim—nor seeing anything,” she said reproachfully.