They all stopped talking and turned their faces up, tipping back on their heels, and shading their eyes.
“What is it? What do you see, Julie?” Mrs. Wicket demanded.
“It’s so beautiful!” Julie cried. “So blue—and those big white clouds!”
“Well, for mercy sake, is that all!” the other ejaculated. “Why, I thought it must be a flying machine.”
“But it’s so beautiful!” Julie persisted, trying to draw them into her elation.
“I don’t care for that kind of a sky,” Mrs. Bixby said languidly. “It’s mighty apt to bring a storm, and thunder always makes me s’ nervous.”
Julie felt crushed, as though the sky were a hat which she had offered for sale, but which both ladies had repudiated.
Mr. Bixby essayed a timid assent. “It is beautiful,” he said, cocking his head on one side to spy upward. “I don’t believe I ever saw it so blue.”
“I never saw how beautiful it is,” Julie said turning to him involuntarily. “I’ve—I’ve—why it’s like I’d just seen it for the first time.”
He looked at her curiously, and started to speak, but Mrs. Wicket interrupted.