And as for the season--McKellar could not remember
such a devastatingly dry August since he was a lad at home.
"Why, McKellar, we had rain two days ago."
"You wouldn't call that little mist rain, sir."
"And last week a perfect downpour."
"Ah, that's the kind doesn't sink into the soil." Looking up
critically at the heavens, McKellar expressed his settled conviction
that in two weeks' time hardly a blade or a shrub would be alive in
the island at Newport.
"Well, that will save us all a lot of trouble, McKellar," said Mr.
Cord, and presently left his gloomy gardener. He had attained his
object. When he went back into the house, Eddie had gone, and he could
go back to his new driver in peace.
He was not interrupted until ten minutes past one, when Crystal came
into the room, her eyes shining with exactly the same color that,
beyond the lawn, the sea was displaying. Unlike Eddie, she looked
better than in her fancy dress. She had on flat tennis shoes, a cotton
blouse and a duck skirt, and a russet-colored sweater. Miss Cox would
have rejected every item of her costume except the row of pearls,
which just showed at her throat.
She kissed her father rapidly, and said:
"Good morning, dear. Are you ready for breakfast--lunch I mean?"
She was a little bit flustered for the reason that it seemed to her
as if any one would be able to see that she was an entirely different
Crystal from the one of the evening before, and she was not quite sure
what she was going to answer when her father said, as she felt certain
he must say at any moment, "My dear child, what has come over you?"
He did not say this, however.
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