Indoors, while they were locking up, Laura giggled. "He's daft about you, Freddy!"
"Mr. Weston? My dear, you're mad! He looks on me as a granddaughter."
"Those aunts or cousins, or whatever they are, of his," Laura said, sleepily, "are at the hotel, and I went with Mother to call on them. The old one, who looks like an eagle, is perfectly sweet; but the pouter-pigeon one said that she did not think the young woman of to-day, who went into business, 'was calculated to make any man happy.' 'Course, I knew she was afraid you would catch 'dear Arthur'! But really—"
"Come on," Fred interrupted, starting up-stairs.
Laura stumbled along behind her. "Really, I think he is gone on you."
"Goose!" The idea was too absurd to discuss; instead, when she was combing her hair Fred called through the partition that separated the tiny bedrooms and said she wanted to tell Laura something.
"Come in!" Laura called back; and Frederica, comb in hand, came in, and sat on the edge of the bed. At first she talked about Flora, who didn't like to come out to the camp, because it took her away from her beau. "The McKnight chauffeur is very attentive," Fred said; "fortunately for me, Jack's going off with the car for all of August, or I'm afraid she'd leave me, so as to get back to town. Isn't it funny how crazy women in the lower classes are to get married?"
Laura nodded, sleepily.
"Want me to read you Howard's last letter?" Fred said, and took it out of the pocket of her kimono.
Laura, curled up on the bed, listened. "He's right," she said, when Frederica, with due carelessness, read Howard's panegyrics on her brains; "you are terribly clever, Freddy."