“Why, Frances Pounder!”
“Well, what is the good. It is so tiresome scrambling about over the rocks. I’d much rather sit on the piazza, or drive. It’s our duty to rest in summer.”
Nevertheless, in spite of her professed indifference to the best-known spots in Nahant, Frances did point out the unpretentious, home-like cottage where Longfellow had spent so many summers, and several other houses where Story and Curtis and Prescott, the historian, had spent a greater or less time. Yet, although she was more enthusiastic on the subject of the newer houses of her special friends than on the historic houses or the picturesque localities, she made herself very entertaining. Nora consequently came to the conclusion that, after all, there was something to like in Frances; and when she thanked her for a very pleasant day she meant just what she said.
