"Why, I couldn't possibly go with you. It's absurd. I daren't even think of it."
"Why not?"
"Well, it's such a queer, wild place. And it is so horribly far away. And I'm not strong enough for roughing it."
"Nonsense. Illinois isn't a frontier. It's only two days' travel from Boston. As for roughing it, think of the Vermont farm-houses where we've stayed on fishing trips. Remember the smothery feather-beds, and the ice-cold pickled beets and pie for breakfast? Darkest Illinois can't be worse than that."
"N-no, I should hope not. But it will be so tedious and dull!"
"Didn't the doctor order you to spend a dull summer? Didn't he prescribe bread and milk and sleep?"
"Rod, I won't go. I can't. I'd be perfectly miserable. There, now!"
Roderick gave her a long, grave look.
"Then I may as well write and decline the Breckenridge offer, Sis. For I'll take you with me, or else stay here with you. That's all."
"Rod, you're so contrary!" Marian's lips quivered. "You must go West. I won't have you stay here and drudge forever at office work. You must not throw away this splendid chance. It isn't possible!"