“People who can’t rise above mere weather should be taught a lesson,” declared Helen.
“Nonsense, child!” from Miss Somerville. “Weather is something no one can rise above. A week of rain in these mountains would make all of us ready to kill each other and then commit suicide.”
“I hope we won’t be put to the test,” said Nan.
“I should hope not! ‘Continual dripping on a rainy day’ is a proverbial evil. I hope some bridge players will be numbered among the guests. I am hungry for a game.”
“Why, Cousin Lizzie, you know we don’t mind playing a bit,” said Helen. “Why don’t you ask us whenever you want to?”
“Don’t mind playing? Bless you, child! Who wants to play with people who play because they ‘don’t mind playing’? I can see that game now! ‘What’s trumps?’ ‘Whose play is it?’ ‘I thought I had played!’ ‘I must have reniged as I find I have a heart, after all.’ No, no! When I play cards, I want the game made up of devotees. How would you like a partner in the dance who danced merely out of good-nature and kept forgetting whether he was dancing the schottische or mazurka?”
As no one had danced either of those obsolete dances for at least thirty years, the girls could not help a few sly smiles.
How rapidly that first week had flown! They had settled now into regular camp life, even Miss Somerville. She had secretly decided that Nature was not half bad and had once found herself admiring a sunset. She had kept her admiration to herself, however, for fear some over-zealous person might make her get up and see a sunrise.
Oscar and Susan, with Gwen doing the head work, had managed the cooking beautifully for the few people they had to serve. It remained to be seen how things would go when the boarders poured in for the week-end.