Rolf’s eyes sparkled.
“I like that story awfully. Yes,” and looking at me critically, “I like you too, though you are a plain young woman. No, I did not mean to say that,” interrupting himself in a hurry; “bread and salt, you know; I shall always think of that when I am going to tell Juddy things that mother says. She is an old stupid, you know, and she never has time to make a tail to my kite, and mother says she has no patience with her, she is such an——Oh, oh, Miss Fenton, bread and salt! How ever shall I remember when I want to put Juddy in a rage?”
“I daresay I shall be able to help you with your kite,” I returned, changing the subject, “but we shall want plenty of string and paper.”
“Oh, you nice old thing,” replied Rolf, ecstatically. “You are not a bit plain, not a bit; I shall tell mother I think you lovely, and that I mean to marry you when I grow up. Won’t she stare at that? May I bring my kite here this afternoon?”
“No, no, my dear, not this afternoon; we are going to the shore.”
“Oh, then I will come with you. Mother,” as Mrs. Markham appeared at the door, and looked at us with unfeigned surprise, “I can’t drive with you this afternoon; I am going on the beach with Miss Fenton and the children.”
(To be continued.)
THE HISTORY OF HOME
OR
DOMESTIC WAYS SINCE THE TIMES OF HENRY VIII.
By NANETTE MASON.