"
"Still it means another summer over," Tom said soberly. He was rather
sorry that it was so--there could never be another summer quite so
jolly and carefree. "And the breaking up of the club, I suppose?"
"I don't see why we need call it a break--just a discontinuance, for a
time."
"And why that, even? There'll be a lot of you left, to keep it going."
"Y-yes, but with three, or perhaps more, out, I reckon we'll have to
postpone the next installment until another summer."
Tom went off then for more berries, and Hilary sat leaning back against
the trunk of the big tree crowning the top of Meeting-House Hill, her
eyes rather thoughtful. From where she sat, she had a full view of
both roads for some distance and, just beyond, the little hamlet
scattered about the old meeting-house.
Before the gate of one of the houses stood a familiar gig, and
presently, as she sat watching, Dr. Brice came down the narrow
flower-bordered path, followed by a woman. At the gate both stopped;
the woman was saying something, her anxious, drawn face seeming out of
keeping with the cheery freshness of the morning and the flowers
nodding their bright heads about her.
As the doctor stood listening, his old shabby medicine case in his
hand, with face bent to the troubled one raised to his, and bearing
indicating grave sympathy and understanding, Hilary reached for her
camera.
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