“I must hurry home,” she said, “or dad will be anxious. But I am glad, really, Mr. Webster, that you can do without a shade.”
“I am glad,” said Dan; “but I am sorry too, for it means the end of a delightful holiday. It means going back to work.”
“‘Who first invented work, and bound the free and holiday-rejoicing spirit down?’” quoted Uncle Robert. “It was Charles Lamb who wrote that, I think. Refuse to be bound down, Dan! Stay and enjoy a little longer! You ought to, you know, for now you can really take pleasure in things.”
Mrs. Barrimore stood twisting a long velvet hat-string in her slim fingers. She spoke now, adding her word of inducement.
“It would not be fair to us or to yourself, Dan, to run away just when your eyes are better. Stay on at least a few days!”
“I want you to put my handsome face on record before you go, too,” put in Uncle Robert.
“You ought to have a portrait with a bathing-towel round your neck,” laughed Mrs. Barrimore.
“A good idea! a very good idea, my dear Annie!” cried Uncle Robert with a hearty laugh.
“I really must go,” Phyllis broke in, “I shall be prettily scolded! Good-bye, dear Mrs. Barrimore. Good-bye, Mr. Burns—good-bye, Mr. Webster.”
She ran across the lawn and took her bicycle, the three following to see her ride away.