Hilary was carried off to rest until supper time, and the rest
scattered about the garden, a veritable rose garden on that June
afternoon, roses being Dr. Brice's pet hobby.
"It must be lovely to _live_ in the country," Shirley said, dropping
down on the grass before the doctor's favorite _La France_, and laying
her face against the soft, pink petals of a half-blown bud.
Edna eyed her curiously. She had rather resented the admittance of
this city girl into their set. Shirley's skirt and blouse were of
white linen, there was a knot of red under the broad sailor collar, she
was hatless and the dark hair,--never kept too closely within
bounds--was tossed and blown; there was certainly nothing especially
cityfied in either appearance or manner.
"That's the way I feel about the city," Edna said slowly, "it must be
lovely to live _there_."
Shirley laughed. "It is. I reckon just being alive anywhere such days
as these ought to content one. You haven't been over to the manor
lately, have you? I mean since we came there. We're really getting
the garden to look like a garden. Reclaiming the wilderness, father
calls it. You'll come over now, won't you--the club, I mean?"
"Why, of course," Edna answered, she thought she would like to go.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106