“Nonsense, honey, nonsense.”
“And nonsense means no,” decided the girl. “I thought it would be curious if he had,” then an interval of silence, broken only by the dip of the oars. “Gertrude’s note said a Paris doctor is with them, a friend of Kenneth and mama. Well, I only hope he isn’t a crusty old sweetheartless man. But of course he is if Mr. Loring chose him. I’m wild to know how they got through the blockade. Oh, dear, how I wish it was Ken!”
“I don’t suppose you wish it any more than the boy himself,” said Aunt Sajane, with a sigh. “There’s a good many boys scattered from home, these days, who would be glad to be home again.”
“But not unless they gain what they went for,” declared the girl in patriotic protest.
The older woman sighed, and said nothing. Her enthusiasms of a year ago had been shrouded by the crape of 118 a mourning land; the glory of conquest would be compensation, perhaps, and would be gained, no doubt. But the price to be paid chilled her and left her without words when Evilena revelled in the glories of the future.
“Loringwood line,” said Pluto, motioning towards a great ditch leading straight back from the river.
Evilena shrugged her shoulders with a little pretense of chill, and laughed.
“That is only a reminder of what I used to feel when Gertrude’s uncle came to our house. I wonder if this long dress will prevent him from grunting at me or ordering me out of the room if I talk too much.”
“Remember, Evilena, he has been an invalid for four years, and is excusable for almost any eccentricity.”
“How did you all excuse his eccentricities before he got sick, Aunt Sajane?”