"
Eleanor felt Quin's eyes seek hers confidently, but she refused to meet
them. There was a painful silence; then he spoke up hopefully:
"I know where there are wild flowers to burn: I was at a place yesterday
where you could hardly walk for them; I counted seven different kinds in
a space about as big as this room."
"Where?" demanded Mr. and Mrs. Ranny in one breath.
"Out Anchordale way--I don't know the name of the road. It's an
out-of-the-way sort of place. Never was there myself until yesterday."
"Could you find it again?" Mrs. Ranny asked with an enthusiasm hitherto
reserved for her poodle.
"Sure," said Quin, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back with
the frankest and best-natured of smiles. "I never saw so many cowslips
and buttercups and yellow violets, and these here little arums."
"Arums!" repeated Eleanor. "What do you know about wild flowers?"
"I lived with 'em up in the Maine woods," said Quin. "I don't know their
high-brow names, but I know the kind of places they grow in and where to
look for 'em."
"Let's take him along!" said Mrs. Ranny. "We won't mind being a bit
crowded in the motor, will we?"
Involuntarily all eyes turned toward Harold Phipps.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196