If she could learn to sit comfortably back and lounge a
trifle, and if a friendly magpie would only chance along and steal her
stock of fronts, for a nest, so that she would be obliged to show her
own lovely hair that shades like oxidized silver, the transformation
would be complete.
Martin Cortright also is developing mental energy. He always had
considerable physical vim, as I found the Sunday after he first came,
when he accompanied Evan upon one of his long walks, and was not used up
by it. He has stopped fumbling with reference books and shuffling bits of
paper by the hour, and writes industriously every day by the west window
of the attic, where he can refresh himself by looking out of the window
at the garden, or across at the passers on the highway. I was afraid that
he might wish to read the results nightly to either father or Evan, but
no, he keeps them safely under lock and key in a great teacher's desk
that he bought second hand over in town. He stays to dine with us two or
three nights a week, but he has grown flexible, and our meals are very
merry ones. Laugh softly to yourself, Experience Book, and flutter your
leaves just a bit as I write, that of their own volition, Miss Lavinia
and Martin have drifted from whist to piquet, as by natural transition,
and Evan is free for garden saunterings once more.
* * * * *
_June_ 25. Yesterday was the day of the festival, and it was neither
sultry, foggy, nor brought to a sudden stop by a thunder shower, as so
often happens at this season.
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