“It’s an interesting one to me. I kept a journal about my experiment; I’ll read it to you, shall I?”
“I would like it ever so much if you like me well enough to do it.”
“Of course I do,” springing up. “And after I read it to you, you shall write the ‘final’ for me.”
In the top drawer of the bureau, she fumbled among neckties, pocket-handkerchiefs, and a collection of odds and ends, and at last, brought out a small, soft-covered, thin book with edges of gilt.
“I named it ‘Nan’s Experiment,’” she said seriously, reseating herself near the register. “If you wish to listen in comfort, draw that rocker close to me, and take off your boots and heat your feet. If you are in a comfortable position, you will be in a more merciful frame of mind to judge my misdoings.”
Tessa obeyed, and leaned back in the cushioned chair, braiding and unbraiding her hair as she listened.
The journal opened with an account of the journey by train to St. Louis. The description of her escort was enthusiastic and girlish in the extreme.
“Is it nonsense?” the reader asked.
“Even if it were, I haven’t travelled so far away from those days that I can not understand.”
She read with more confidence.