“I’m going for a walk with Mr. Winthrop, Auntie,” said Holly. She fastened a broad-brimmed hat on her head and looked down at Miss India with soft, shining eyes. Dinner was over and Miss India, the Major and Julian were sitting in a shady spot on the porch. Winthrop awaited Holly at the steps.
“Well, my dear,” answered Miss India. “But keep Mr. Winthrop away from those dark, damp places, Holly. It’s so easy to get the feet wet at this time of year.”
“You see, Uncle Major,” laughed Holly, “she doesn’t care whether I catch cold or not; it’s just Mr. Winthrop!”
“Holly!” expostulated her Aunt.
“She knows, my dear,” said the Major, gallantly, “that those little feet of yours will skim the wet places like swallows!”
“Thank you, sir!” She made a face at the Major. “You will be here when we get back, won’t you, Julian?”
“I don’t know,” answered Julian, dismally.
“We won’t be long.” She nodded to the trio and joined Winthrop, and side by side they went down the steps, wound through the garden and disappeared into the oleander path. Julian watched them with a pain at his heart until they were out of sight, and for several minutes afterwards he sat silent, thinking bitter thoughts. Then a remark of the Major’s aroused him and he leaped impetuously into the conversation.
“Trouble!” he exclaimed. “Why, we can clear the Spaniards out of Cuba in two weeks. Look at our ships! And look at our army! There isn’t a better one in the world! Trouble! Why, it’ll be too easy; you’ll see; it’ll be all over before we know it!”
“I dread another war, Major,” said Miss India, with a little shudder. “The last one was so terrible.”