"Haven't you been home all this time?" asked Hollis, startling her out of
her dream.
"Oh, yes, and come back again."
"Do you find the cottage so charming?"
"I find it charming, but I could have waited another day to come and see
it. I came to walk part of the way with Morris."
She colored, because when she was embarrassed she colored at everything,
and could not think of another word to say.
Among those who understood him, rather, among those he understood, Hollis
was a ready talker; but, seemingly, he too could not think of another
word to say.
Marjorie picked her daisies to pieces and they went on in the narrow foot
path, as she and Morris had done in the afternoon; Hollis walking on the
grass and giving her the path as her other companion had done. She could
think of everything to say to Morris, and Morris could think of
everything to say to her; but Morris was only a boy, and this tall
stranger was a gentleman, a gentleman whom she had never seen before.
"If it were good sleighing I might take you on my sled," he remarked,
when all the daisies were pulled to pieces.
"Is Flyaway in existence still?" she asked brightly, relieved that she
might speak at last.
"'Stowed away,' as father says, in the barn, somewhere. Mr. Holmes is not
as strict as he used to be, is he?"
"No, he never was after that. I think he needed to give a lesson to
himself."
"He looks haggard and old."
"I suppose he is old; I don't know how old he is, over forty.
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