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"Just for that," said he, "we'll have eating and no conversation for five whole minutes." Whereupon he began to scribble on a pad, laughing to himself every now and then as he wrote. "That must be a cheerful prescription," observed Gwendolyn's father. He himself looking happier than he had. "The country," answered the Doctor, "is always cheerful." Gwendolyn's spoon slipped from her fingers.
It was a maid a maid wearing a sugar-bowl cap. Gwendolyn knew her instantly that pretty face, as full and rosy as the face of the French doll, and framed by saucy wisps and curls as fair as Gwendolyn's own and freckleless! "Oh!" It was a low cry of delight. The nurse smiled. She had a tray in one hand. On the tray was a blue bowl of something steaming hot.
There was a wheel and a flutter at the door another silent exchange of comment, question and exclamation, all mingled eloquently. Then Louise swept back. "What a bright child!" she enthused. "Does she speak French?" "She is acquiring two tongues at present," answered Gwendolyn's mother proudly, " French and German." "Splendid!" It was the elder woman. "I think every little girl should have those.
Beside it, waiting with an impressive air, was Miss Royle. "I think we must go, Louise." "Oh, we must," quickly. "Dear me! I'd almost forgot! We've promised to lunch with one or two people down-town." "I wish you were lunching here," said Gwendolyn's mother. She freed herself gently from the clinging arms and followed the two. "Miss Royle, will you take Gwendolyn?"
The voice went on: "This is the first time you've met the mother, isn't it?" "I think so," indifferently. "Who is she, anyhow?" "Nobody." Gwendolyn stared. "Nobody at all absolutely. You know, they say " She paused for emphasis. Now, Gwendolyn's eyes grew suddenly round; her lips parted in surprise. They again! "Yes?" encouraged Louise.
Without another moment's delay Gwendolyn and her father set forth, traveling a road that stretched forward beside the stream of soda, winding as the stream wound, to the music of the fuming water music with a bass of deep pool-notes. How sweet it all was! Underfoot the dirt was cool. It yielded itself deliciously to Gwendolyn's bare tread.
Gwendolyn's spoon, crouton-laden, wabbled in mid-air. "Go barefoot?" she repeated, small face flushing to a pleased pink. "Right away? Before I'm eight?" "Um!" assented the Doctor. Also do barefoot gardening, where there isn't a plant to hurt! And wade the creek." Again the dimples came rushing to their places. "I like squashing," she declared, smiling round.
But soon the buzzing grew louder as Gwendolyn's mother came into sight, shrouded, and scarcely discernible. They met her as she came on, blocking her way. And, "Madam!" They shouted. "Trade your bonnet for the Piper's poke!" Gwendolyn held her breath. Her mother halted. Now for the first time she lifted her eyes and looked about as if dazed and miserable. There was a flush on each smooth cheek.
Everyone was watching, the ladies beaming, the men intent and amused. But Gwendolyn was unaware both of the silence and the scrutiny. She glanced at the box. Then she looked up into the friendly eyes of the donor. "But," she began; " but which is my sweet tooth?" There was a burst of laughter, Gwendolyn's father and mother joining in.
"I think you're gittin' on so fine that you can hop up and dress," she declared, noting how the gray eyes sparkled, and how pink were the round spots on Gwendolyn's cheeks. Gwendolyn had nothing to say. Jane ran to the wardrobe and took out a dress.
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