CHAPTER XX
MARJORIE SEES A PHOTOGRAPH
"Don't you think there is always something very sad about last days in places?"
Beverly laughed, and cast an amused glance at his companion's sober face. He and Marjorie were trotting leisurely along a road where the trees met overhead in summer, although now the boughs were leafless, and there was a light covering of snow on the ground. It was their last afternoon in Virginia, and they were making the most of it, despite a lowering sky, and a frostiness in the air, which threatened more snow before night.
"Just think," Marjorie went on mournfully, "I sha'n't have another ride for five whole months. School doesn't close till the first of June."
"Why don't you ride in the park? Lots of girls do, you know. Ask your uncle to hire a horse for you from the riding academy."
"I don't like to," she said, frankly. "Uncle Henry and Aunt Julia are doing so much for me already, I don't think I ought to ask for anything more. Elsie doesn't ride in New York."
"Well, I have no doubt she could if she wanted to. I imagine Miss Elsie generally gets what she wants."
"You don't like Elsie, do you?" The words were out before Marjorie realized she had uttered them. The next moment she wished she had not asked the question.