"You came the other way," he said. "I see. I shall know how next time.
What a delightful post, Miss Lothrop!"
"I have been trying to find what she came here for; and she won't tell me," said Tom.
"You know what you came here for," said his friend. "Why cannot you credit other people with as much curiosity as you have yourself?"
"I credit them with more," said Tom. "But curiosity on Appledore will find itself baffled, I should say."
"Depends on what curiosity is after," said Lenox. "Tell him, Miss
Lothrop; he will not be any the wiser."
"Then why should I tell him?" said Lois.
"Perhaps I shall!"
Lois's laugh came again.
"Seriously. If any one were to ask me, not only what we but what anybody should come to this place for, I should be unprepared with an answer. I am forcibly reminded of an old gentleman who went up Mount Washington on one occasion when I also went up. It came on to rain—a sudden summer gust and downpour, hiding the very mountain it self from our eyes; hiding the path, hiding the members of the party from each other. We were descending the mountain by that time, and it was ticklish work for a nervous person; every one was committed to his own sweet guidance; and as I went blindly stumbling along, I came every now and then upon the old gentleman, also stumbling along, on his donkey. And whenever I was near enough to him, I could hear him dismally soliloquizing, 'Why am I here!'—in a tone of mingled disgust and self-reproach which was in the highest degree comical."
"So that is your state of mind now, is it?" said Tom.