Thinking so, he went up the stairs and opened the door of his and her sitting-room. The sun was down by that time, and the evening light was failing. The table stood ready for tea; Winnie had all the windows open to let in the freshening air from the sea, which was beginning to make head against the heats and steams of the city; herself sat on the couch, away from the windows, and perhaps her attitude might say, away from everything pleasant. Winthrop came silently up and put a little basket in her hand.
"Oh! —" Winnie sprang forward with an accent of joy, — "Strawberries! — Beautiful! and so sweet! O Winthrop, aren't they sweet! — how good they will be."
"I hope so," said he. "How are you?"
"O — I'm well," said Winnie. "How big they are — and fresh.
They do smell so sweet, don't they, Governor?"
Winthrop thought they were not so fresh nor so sweet as those which grew in the Bright Spot under Wut-a-qut-o; but he didn't remind Winnie of that. He smiled at her, as she was picking over her basket of strawberries with an eager hand. Yet when Winnie had got to the bottom of the basket and looked up at him his face was very grave indeed.
"There's plenty for you and me, Governor," she said.
"No," said her brother.
"There is plenty, Winthrop!"
"There is only just enough for you, and you must prove that by eating them all."
"Why didn't you get some for yourself, Governor!"