"I suppose it's the feeling better, and, then, the getting to
know Shirley."
"I'm glad of that." Pauline sat silent for some moments; she was
watching a fat bumble bee buzzing in and out among the flowers in the
garden. It was always still, over here at the farm, but to-day, it
seemed a different sort of stillness, as if bees and birds and flowers
knew that it was Sunday afternoon.
"Paul," Hilary asked suddenly, "what are you smiling to yourself about?"
"Was I smiling? I didn't know it. I guess because it is so nice and
peaceful here and because--Hilary, let's start a club--the 'S. W. F.
Club.'"
"The what?"
"The 'S. W. F. Club.' No, I shan't tell you what the letters stand
for! You've got to think it out for yourself."
"A real club, Paul?"
"Indeed, yes."
"Who's to belong?"
"Oh, lots of folks. Josie and Tom, and you and I--and I think, maybe,
mother and father."
"Father! To belong to a club!"
"It was he who put the idea into my head."
Hilary came to sit beside her sister on the step. "Paul, I've a
feeling that there is something--up! And it isn't the barometer!"
"Where did you get it?"
"From you."
Pauline sprang up. "Feelings are very unreliable things to go by, but
I've one just now--that if we don't hunt Impatience up pretty
quick--there will be something doing.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69