“As to Redfield, you haven’t done anything yet?”
“No; I’m on my way to see him now.”
“Well, don’t be in a hurry about making the change. You’d better go up to the lake Sunday and sit on the shore all day and let June soak in. You will find that it helps. I’ll meet those verses you’re sending me at the outer wicket; I’m sure I’ll like them!”
IV
When Saturday proved to be the fairest of June days, the Poet decided that it was a pity to remain in city pent when three hours on the train would carry him to Waupegan, a spot whose charms had been brought freshly to his attention by the sheaf of verses Fulton had sent him. He had hoped to find Fulton on the train; but when the young man did not appear, he found compensation in the presence of Mrs. Waring, who was bound for Waupegan to take possession of her house.
“Marian took Marjorie up yesterday. It occurred to me, after I’d posted Elizabeth off with a servant to straighten up my house, that I’d done the crudest thing imaginable, for Elizabeth went honeymooning to Waupegan—I gave her and Miles my house for a fortnight, as you may remember. I wanted to get her out of town and I never thought of that until she’d gone.”
“Isn’t it a good sign that Elizabeth would go? It shows that the associations of the lake still mean something to her.”
“Oh, but they don’t mean anything to him—that’s the trouble! If there ever was a brute—”
“There are worse men—or brutes,” the Poet mildly suggested.
“I can’t imagine it!” Mrs. Waring replied tartly.