“Doesn’t the lake look lovely with all the boats lighted up?” Rosa exclaimed. “With the big black mountains at the back and the little firefly boats in front—I guess this is one of the most beautiful lakes in America,” she finished.
“It is glorious,” agreed Nancy. “But it makes me feel sort of awe-stricken,” she admitted.
“Not homesick? That isn’t just a nice way of saying you’re homesick, Nance?” asked Rosa solicitously.
“Oh, no indeed, Rosa,” denied Nancy. “But I was just thinking how dark it can be under all these trees.”
“And this house hasn’t a bright spot in it,” added Rosa. “I wonder why folks build with black beams in forests? And they always seem to. If I were planning a mountain camp I’d have white pine wood and turn yellow paint on with a hose, inside and out,” she declared. A car was coming up the winding drive, its headlights threading their way through the trees in glaring billows.
“There’s Gar!” exclaimed Rosa, joy juggling the words. “I’m so glad he came over! Now, you won’t be homesick.”
“I wasn’t,” defended Nancy. But the car was at the steps now and Rosa was racing off in that direction. The prospect of meeting a strange boy fluttered Nancy, naturally, but Perhaps she would have been more self-conscious had the caller been a girl. Girls are supposed to be critical, and Nancy’s wardrobe was not elaborate, but boys—well boys ought to be jolly. She knew that Ted and his little friends would still be when they grew up.
“My cousin, you know, Gar,” Rosa was exclaiming, as the youth in white knickers, with his prep school sweater of violent yellow, came along the porch.
The introductions over, Nancy knew she was going to like Garfield Durand. His manner toward Rosa was that of a big brother, and he did not hesitate to argue against many of her suggestions.
“Can’t take you out, Rosa, unless you’re sure your dad won’t mind,” he said frankly. Then turning to Nancy, “Don’t you think it’s silly to be meeting that Orilla girl—”