"No, you shall not buy these. I am sending them to your mother with my
love, to beg pardon for Miss Lavinia and myself, for we've been trying to
go to Pine Ridge all the week; but this affair has kept me spinning like
a top, and when I do stop I expect to fall over with weariness. I was
_so_ sorry about Rockcliffe Commencement. Some day, perhaps, mamma will
have finished bringing me out, and then I can crawl in again where it is
quiet, and live. Ah, you went to the house and saw her, and she said we
were going away next week? I did not know it, but we flit about so one
can never tell. I've half a mind to be rebellious and ask to be left here
with Lavinia Dorman for guardian, I'm so tired of change. Yes, I enjoyed
my flying trip to the West, in a way, though father only came as far as
Chicago with me, but I expect him to-morrow."
Then the crowd surged along, peering, staring, and feeling, so that it
would have blocked the way conspicuously if Bradford had lingered longer.
As he vanished, Monty Bell sauntered up, and, entering the booth, took
his place by Sylvia. Under pretext of good-naturedly saving her fingers
from thorns by tying the bouquets for her, kept by her side all the
afternoon, and when a lull came at tea time, strolled with her toward the
refreshment tent, where he coaxed her to sit down to rest in one of the
little recesses that lined the garden wall, where she would be free from
the crowd while he brought her some supper.
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