It had been painted by the sun and the
wind and the salt air, so that its color depended upon the day, and it
was sometimes dull and almost black, or blue-black, under a lowering sky,
and again a golden brown, especially at sunset, and Edith, feeling its
character rather than its appearance to ordinary eyes, had named it the
Golden House. Nature is such a beautiful painter of wood.
With Edith went one of her Baltimore cousins, a young kindergarten
teacher of fine intelligence and sympathetic manner, who brought to her
work a long tradition of gentle breeding and gayety and simplicity
--qualities which all children are sure to recognize. What a hopeful thing
it is, by-the-way, in the world, that all conditions of people know a
lady at sight! Jack found the place delightful. He liked its
quaintness, the primitiveness of the farmer-fisherman neighbors, he liked
the sea. And then he could run up to the city any morning and back at
night. He spent the summer with Edith at the Golden House. This was his
theory. When he went to town in the morning he expected to return at
night. But often he telegraphed in the afternoon that he was detained by
business; he had to see Henderson, or Mavick was over from Washington.
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