“I do begrudge the time a little myself, just now, in this perfect weather. But in hardly more than two weeks it will all be over, and then I shall enjoy my holiday all the better.”
“Yes, but next year you will have to go through it all again. No! college would n’t do for me,” cried Brenda, “I never want to think about a book after the first of June.”
“Except a novel or two,” interposed Julia, mischievously.
“Oh, well, of course, on hot days when you ’re resting, you have to read something entertaining, at least I do,” and, suiting the acting to the word, Brenda flung herself down in the easy-chair, and, picking up the paper-covered book, resumed her reading.
“Let me know when the luncheon-bell rings, I may not hear it,” she called to Julia as the latter passed through the screen door into the house.
But although Julia did call her quarter of an hour later, Mrs. Barlow and she had been at the table for some time before Brenda came, summoned at last by a special message.
“Really, mamma, I forgot. At least I was so interested in my book that I could n’t leave it. I had to wait until I came to a stopping-place.”
“I’m afraid that I shall have to make a stopping-place for your reading, Brenda, if it is to interfere so with your duties. I must look at your book, and see what makes it so absorbing.”
