When I suggested that the only hope was to take one of these nice worthless fellows and put some “starch” into him, the rear seat burst into a peal of conspirant laughter. Possibly that hope had been tried. Cornelia whirled around upon us, and demanded:—
“What are you children talking about?”
I answered sedately that we were discussing education for life, and that there were certain points on which I should like her opinion. But we were now at the clump of Rural Free Delivery boxes, where the path comes down from my cottage. Intimating that I might “drop around” toward the end of the afternoon, I got out, and having handed up Cornelia’s mail, walked home with my own. It proved rather piquantly amusing.
II
“LET’S WALK”
There was a light rain at lunch-time, but it blew over, leaving the out-of-doors extraordinarily inviting. After I had written for two or three hours, I found myself walking—and chuckling—up the path through the birches to Cornelia’s place. Under the hemlocks near the house, I passed Dorothy, in white tennis-attire with a sketchy sweater the color of California poppies, curled up in a hammock with a book. A young girl alone fills me with awe, like a cardinal building a nest; and I always try to slip past without disturbance—I feel that her mind must be occupied with something beautiful.
“What are you reading?” I called by way of greeting.
“I’m not reading,” she replied, “I’m waiting for the young man that mother likes to have me play tennis with.”
With an additional chuckle, I proceeded to the front of the house. My original merriment had been occasioned by two letters, in the morning mail, from correspondents at large who desired me to inform them whether Cornelia was “real.” I was also wondering how much of these letters I could discreetly disclose to her.
She met me on the threshold of the wide verandah, standing for an instant tiptoe in a practicable yet perfect sylvan costume, and framed between two tall Chinese vases of wild tiger-lilies, which made a little pattern with the glints in her hair and the knot of soft flame at her breast.
“Let’s walk!” she said.