Around us were solitudes of snow,
arcades picked out in pearl and silver, long avenues of untrodden
marble whence sprang the cathedral columns of the firs. We were
all sorry when we were through the woods and found ourselves
looking down into the snug, commonplace, farmstead-dotted
settlement of Baywater.
"There's Cousin Mattie's house--that big white one at the turn of
the road," said the Story Girl. "I hope she has that dinner
ready, Dan. I'm hungry as a wolf after our walk."
"I wish Cousin Mattie's husband was still alive," said Dan. "He
was an awful nice old man. He always had his pockets full of nuts
and apples. I used to like going there better when he was alive.
Too many old women don't suit me."
"Oh, Dan, Cousin Mattie and her sisters-in-law are just as nice
and kind as they can be," reproached Cecily.
"Oh, they're kind enough, but they never seem to see that a fellow
gets over being five years old if he only lives long enough,"
retorted Dan.
"I know a story about Cousin Mattie's husband," said the Story
Girl. "His name was Ebenezer, you know--"
"Is it any wonder he was thin and stunted looking?" said Dan.
"Ebenezer is just as nice a name as Daniel," said Felicity.
"Do you REALLY think so, my angel?" inquired Dan, in honey-sweet
tones.
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