“You generally get what you want, Brenda, and we shall expect soon to hear a full account of this—what did you say her name was?”
“Amy, papa.”
Nevertheless, more than a week of June days passed before Brenda saw Amy again, and then it was only a passing glimpse, as she rode along the road in front of the house. As she looked, she was quite sure that it was Amy whom she saw tying up a vine in the back yard.
“It would n’t have hurt her to come forward to speak to me. I don’t suppose a great many persons pass this way,” said Brenda under her breath, and she increased her speed, as she turned off into the main road.
But the next week or two brought so many things to Brenda that she had little time to think about the unresponsive Amy. In the first place, there came the seventeenth, and with it a small house-party of older people whom Mr. and Mrs. Barlow had invited. Nobody needs to be reminded that the seventeenth of June is the anniversary of the Battle of Bunker Hill, and although it is only in the neighborhood of Boston that it is celebrated, still it is a holiday that is highly appreciated by people in offices or business, because it affords a day of recreation in the first hot weather. As the small yachts and catboats at Marblehead generally go first into commission on the seventeenth, Mr. Barlow’s cousin Edward, who was one of the guests at Rockley, invited not only the older people, but the girls, to take a sail on his yacht.
