“drawing.” This, at least, was the term that Brenda applied to his manner of drawing out the old fishermen.
Julia begged to be taken out to Eastern Point to get a glimpse of an Old Maid’s Paradise. Mr. Weston read statistics from a guide-book, and Julia quoted poetry, and they yielded so far to Brenda’s wishes, as to take her down to a hotel, where she could sit on the piazza, and see a crowd of young people wandering back and forward to the beach, to the rocks toward the Golf Links, and where at last they had dinner in the vast dining-room into which the strains of a small orchestra wandered, in a rather hopeless competition with the clatter of dishes, and knives and forks.
They had almost a week of this pleasant wandering about, and Mr. Weston used his sketching-block almost as extravagantly as Brenda used her camera, and Julia wrote long pages in a note-book, which she intended to copy into her diary on her return home. Then in the evening, when Agnes and Ralph Weston sat apart at one end of the piazza, “looking at the stars,” as Brenda said, Julia and Brenda talked over the doings of the day with Mr. and Mrs. Barlow. They had only a week for these pleasant jaunts, for at the end of that time Mr. Weston was to return to New York for a fortnight, while Brenda and Julia were to go off on little visits. During their absence, Agnes was to entertain several of her school friends. Her absence had cut her off from many of them, and now her marriage was to take her away for a still longer time. The absence of Julia and Brenda would
