“We don’t read much—except the cook-books,” replied Zelda.
“Ha! ha! That is rich,—from the great Miss Dameron, too. I like that! I suppose as a matter of fact you really spend every morning with the classics.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but our mornings are spent with cook-books. My cousin is writing a cook-book and we’re reading all the old ones to be sure hers is all new. It’s delightfully exciting.”
“Wouldn’t that jar one? I say, I want to speak right now for an autograph copy of the first edition of that book.”
“Olive will be delighted,” said Zelda. “It’s designed, you know, for the very young.”
“Oh, I say, but that flew up and hit me! Did you hear that, Morris? I wish you would persuade Miss Dameron to spare my life. She’s trying her sharpest ax on me!”
“How unnecessary!” observed Morris, “and what a waste of the ax.”
“There it goes again. Everybody has it in for me! Oh, well! My time will come!”
It came in an unexpected way. Captain Pollock was riding up the driveway. He was on very good terms at The Beeches, and had been told that while there were lights there was a hope of finding some one at home.
“Here comes another messenger bearing tidings,” said Balcomb, in his most cheerful note. “I hope it isn’t bad news.”