The twilight had fallen, and
the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own.
Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old
people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to
the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be."
"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the
Philosopher, in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most
beautiful old lady I ever saw."
"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old
persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps."
The Philosopher opened his mouth--and closed it again, quite as I had
done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I
should judge he was thinking: "After all--what's the use?"
* * * * *
The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother
was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind
her back and a footstool under her feet.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59