Miss Rodman hesitated a moment. "Yes, dear," she replied; and she added, with an aunt's prerogative, "Why?"
"I wished him to know," answered Olivia, simply. "And I preferred not to speak of it myself. I am glad you told him."
Miss Rodman flushed a little. She was about to speak, apparently, but her niece interrupted her.
"He's coming to take us over to the Pines before supper, if he finishes his map. It seems to me that a government geologist has a very easy time, Auntie. Or isn't Mr. Allan a serious-minded geologist?"
Her tone was deliciously quizzical; she was conscious of a secret happiness that made her words come fast and sure.
"I should think the field work would always be interesting," replied Miss Rodman, with more literalness than was demanded by the occasion. "The preparation of the maps seems to me purely mechanical drudgery. If the Survey had a respectable appropriation, Dr. Allan would be left free for other things. Some of his work has been very brilliant."
The girl laughed. It always amused her to hear Miss Rodman, Ph.D., give Elbridge Allan his Munich title. It was like that old story of the Roman augurs bowing solemnly to each other with a twinkle in the eye.
"Hoho! hahei! hoho!" sang a big, boyish voice from the direction of the Morraway Hotel.
Olivia turned and waved her hand toward the voice. "He doesn't get the intervals of that Sword-song exactly according to Wagner," she commented. "But what a Siegfried he would make for size!"