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Diana cared nothing about sixes-and-sevens; but she felt supreme indignation against Charlotte's stepfather, and she did not attempt to conceal her feelings. Nor was it without an effort to oppose Mr. She appealed to his wife. "Dear Mrs. Sheldon, I beg you not to suffer Lotta's removal," she said earnestly. "You do not know how ill she is nor can Mr. Sheldon know, or he would not take such a step.
Martie loved the city: Market Street, Kearney Street, Union Square. She loved the fresh breath of the morning in her face. She always had her choice of flowers at the curb market about Lotta's fountain, pinning a nodding bunch of roses, Shasta daisies, pansies, or carnations at the belt of her white shirtwaists.
Around Lotta's fountain the baskets of the flower sellers, crammed with chrysanthemums, violets, pinks, roses, lilies, hyacinths, set a brisk note of colour in the grey of the street. But to Lyman's notion the general impression of this centre of the city's life was not one of strenuous business activity.
First of all, there was Dominique's remark about the impossibility of anyone escaping inland. During the period of my convalescence I had seen enough of the country, while wandering about in Lotta's company, to convince me that this statement might be quite true, although Lotta had never said a word to lead me to believe that she was aware that it was so.
But she really needs the exercise she needs cheering. And if you were to see her on horseback, it is something splendid." "It is what we could not afford for Anna," said Mrs. Gascoigne. "But she, dear child, would ride Lotta's donkey and think it good enough." "Certainly, a fine woman never looks better than on horseback," said Mr. Gascoigne. "And Gwendolen has the figure for it.
"We are following El Camino Real from the Mission to the Presidio," I reminded him. We turned toward the shopping district, but the lure of the place made our feet lag. We watched the people purchasing flowers at the corner, and the little newsboys drinking from Lotta's fountain. "A tablet," he exclaimed delightedly, examining the bronze plate fastened to the fountain.
"May I replace the violets you left at the Mission?" he asked, as stepping from the car at Lotta's fountain, we lingered before the gay flower stands edging the sidewalk. Before I had a chance to reply a fragrant bunch was thrust into his hands by an urchin who announced: "Two for two-bits." "Two-bits is twenty-five cents," I interpreted, seeing the Easterner's mystified look.
They considered the Chinese restaurant, the Plaza, Lotta's fountain, the Mechanics' Library, and even the cathedral over in the Mexican quarter, but arrived at no decision. "Did you ever hear of Luna's restaurant?" said Condy. "By Jove, it's just the place!
San Francisco wants you, and what she wants she gets what is the matter, darling?" The corners of his little wife's mouth were down and her chin was trembling. "You might have paid me one compliment!" she enunciated, between anger and tears. "Good heavens, sweetheart, you are as familiar to them as Lotta's fountain. You are an old story and always beautiful," he added, gallantly. "But Isabel!
They went into the high-vaulted old Post Street Library for books, threaded their way along Kearney Street, where the noontide crowd was gaily ebbing and flowing, and loitered at the Flower Market, at Lotta's Fountain, drinking in the glory of violets and daffodils, under the winter sun. Now and then they lunched uptown at some inexpensive restaurant that was still quiet and refined.
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