“I’ll sit in the sun,” he said, designating a place. “When you’re hot you mustn’t rest in the shade, unless you’ve coat or sweater. But you sit here in the shade.”
“Glenn, that’ll put us too far apart,” complained Carley. “I’ll sit in the sun with you.”
The delightful simplicity and happiness of the ensuing hour was something Carley believed she would never forget.
“There! we’ve licked the platter clean,” she said. “What starved bears we were!.... I wonder if I shall enjoy eating—when I get home. I used to be so finnicky and picky.”
“Carley, don’t talk about home,” said Glenn, appealingly.
“You dear old farmer, I’d love to stay here and just dream—forever,” replied Carley, earnestly. “But I came on purpose to talk seriously.”
“Oh, you did! About what?” he returned, with some quick, indefinable change of tone and expression.
“Well, first about your work. I know I hurt your feelings when I wouldn’t listen. But I wasn’t ready. I wanted to—to just be gay with you for a while. Don’t think I wasn’t interested. I was. And now, I’m ready to hear all about it—and everything.”
She smiled at him bravely, and she knew that unless some unforeseen shock upset her composure, she would be able to conceal from him anything which might hurt his feelings.
“You do look serious,” he said, with keen eyes on her.