"Rather hot for history, dear?"
"It's not too hot for the Moonstone, I notice! She's been at that since breakfast, steadily. Not a word for any one."
"'Moonstone' sounds cool, anyhow," drawled the contralto appeasingly.
"Oh, Edith! You're as bad as the child herself!"
"She's fourteen, dear."
"Fourteen! What is that?"
"Anything but a child, when it's you, Sis. You talk to her as if she were ten."
"You'd think she was, if you saw her riding that donkey—a great girl like her!"
"There it is, dear! One moment she's a baby, the next she's a great girl! It's hard on her, Sis."
"But, Edith—that donkey!"
"Poor Rose-Marie! I rode him myself—bareback and standing up!—when I was fifteen—at a circus. Do you remember?"
The voice chuckled unwillingly. "You always were a tomboy, Deedee! Do you remember Joe's bull fight?"
Caroline was not a hundred yards away, sheltering under a heavy arbor vitæ, flat on her stomach
