“It used to be like that,” he smiled, and he reached over and put his hand over Laurel’s. “I’m glad you like to read, Laurel,” he said, “for I like to, too. I’ve hoped you’d like to read when you grew up.”

Laurel looked down at her father’s hand, and then quickly out of the window, as if not to frighten it away.

“Isn’t it funny how many things there are that you like that I like too?” she said softly. “I was counting them up coming down on the train.”

“Are there? Tell me. What?”

“Well—there’s books, and woods, and camping, and dogs, and horses, and fall better than spring, and dark meat better than light, and roast beef better than chicken, and salad better than dessert, and . . . and . . .”

“Yes, go on,” her father encouraged.

“Well, picture galleries, and Madame Butterfly, and that Mrs. Morrison, and—”

“That Mrs. Morrison!” her father interrupted.

“Yes. Don’t you remember last year one afternoon at tea?”

“I supposed you’d forgotten all about Mrs. Morrison.”

“I haven’t,” said Laurel.

“You saw her for only about half an hour.”

“I know it. But you know what you said beforehand?”

“What did I say?”

“Why, for me to notice her, and listen to her nice voice, for she was somebody you’d like me to grow up to be like.”

“Did I say that?”

Laurel nodded.

“And you did really like her?”

“Oh, yes! She was ever so nice to me! She gave me a little silver pencil out of her bag.”

“And she has invited you to spend a few days with her during this visit of yours, at her summer home on Long Island.”

Laurel was silent a moment.

“Will you be there?” she inquired.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ve got to be away. That is why she has invited you, so you won’t be lonely here in New York. I must be in Chicago for a few days next week on business. I don’t like missing even a day of your visit, but it’s necessary.”

“I wouldn’t mind just staying at the hotel with Miss Simpson.”

“Why, I thought you said you liked Mrs. Morrison.”

“I do—only—I’m used to hotels. I’m not lonely in them.

I don’t believe I should like visiting. Has Mrs. Morrison any children?”

“Oh, yes. Several. You’ll have a splendid time.”

“I think I’d rather stay at the hotel,” said Laurel.

“Well, we’ll see. Don’t have to decide tonight. It’s only for a few days anyhow. We’re going to have our two weeks together in the woods just the same.”

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