“Just the spot for gentians in August,” cried Virginia. “The girls will love them so! I’m going to try to send some to Miss Wallace. She’ll be in Chicago, so maybe they’ll go safely that distance. She’s always told me so much about that wonderful blue color in the old Italian pictures. She says that no one has been able to make exactly that shade since. I told her I just knew our mountain gentians were that blue, and I’d send her some. My! I wish she were coming, too! She’s so lovely! I hope, when I grow to be her age, I’ll be at least just a tiny bit like her. You’d like her, Don.” 6
“I’d like her anyway for being such a peach to you,” said Donald.
“I’ll never forget it,” Virginia told him, a little break in her voice. “And especially when—when Jim went—Somewhere Else. Oh, Don, she was so good to me at that time! And she seemed to understand everything! I’ll always love her for it!”
Her gray eyes filled with tears. The boy beside her placed his hand on hers in quick sympathy.
“I know,” he said. “We don’t find a friend like that every day, Virginia. I wish she were coming, too! I’d like to thank her myself.”
Virginia swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled again.
“I wish so, too, but she can’t, so we must make the best of it. Aunt Nan is next best. She’ll love everything! I know she will. She’s such a good sport, too! She’ll learn to ride and shoot, I’m sure. I hope she’ll want to go everywhere with us, and that we won’t seem too young for her.”
“I think Malcolm may go along some—at least before threshing starts. He said he would. 7 Isn’t he about your Aunt Nan’s age? He’s most thirty.”
“Yes,” said Virginia. “I never thought of it before, but I guess he is. Aunt Nan’s thirty, I know, because I remember she told me she’d always sort of dreaded being thirty, but now she’d reached there she found it the most comfortable age in the world. I hope Malcolm will go along. He’s splendid!”
“He’s all right,” returned Donald loyally.