Yet I couldn't
bear to reach the house.
"Why, Helen," said Ethel; "you're not wearing your veil."
"Will the reporters git me ef I don't--watch--out?" I laughed. How could I
muffle myself like a grandmother?
"We'll keep away the goblins," he said; and--it's a little thing to write
down--he walked beside me instead of Milly. We would pass through the
shadows of the trees, and then under the glare of an electric lamp, and
then again into blackness; and I felt in his quickened breath an instant
response to my mood; as if newspapers had never existed, and we were
playing at goblins.
I hope he didn't think me childish.
Of course John had come before we reached home, and of course he had been
all day fuming over the papers, as if that would do any good; but I had
drunk too deep of the intoxicating air to be disturbed by his surprised
look when Mr. Hynes and I entered the library; can't I go without his
guarding even to Aunt Marcia's?
I like the library--bookshelves, not too high, all about it, and the glow
of the open fire and the smiling faces. Sometimes I grow impatient of
Aunt's fussy kindness, and of the slavish worship of limp and
characterless Milly and Ethel; but last night I was glad to be walled
about with cousins, barricaded from the big, curious world.
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