Virginia, meanwhile, came across the lawn with William Carter. She stopped as she came near the horse-chestnut.
“Why, I thought grandfather was here!” she exclaimed, and then to William: “Won’t you sit down? I’ll call him.”
“But I didn’t come to see him,” said William quietly. “I came to see you, Virginia. I suppose I may sit down just the same?”
She blushed.
“Of course!” She took off her hat and laid it on the rustic table, and the sunshine seemed to caress the strands of gold in her soft hair. “We like to sit out here, you know, in summer. It seems so good to be out-of-doors. Do you notice what a view we have, since they cut that new street through?”
She was talking hurriedly, a little nervously, not looking at him. It was their first moment alone together since his return, and Virginia was not quite sure of herself. She pointed out the view.
William turned and looked at it absently.
“You can see a long way, can’t you?”
“Yes; and there’s such a glimpse now of blooming things. The old magnolia’s full of buds.”
“Fanchon doesn’t like these things,” said William moodily. “They bore her. She says she’d rather see one of those electric signs in New York, flashing Budweiser beer in and out, than sit here and count lightning-bugs!”