expect much from a girl of that age.” Of the three girls, Julia was the most apt to look at a subject rom all sides.
“Well, she seems more than that, and I’m sure she is old enough to realize her duty.”
“I’m older than she, and I’m afraid that I don’t always realize mine.”
“The idea, Nora, of comparing yourself with Angelina!”
“I ’ll admit that we ’re not exactly twins, but still—”
“Girls, girls,”—the three looked up to see Mrs. Barlow standing at their door,—“isn’t it pleasanter on the piazza? The moon rises early, and you ought to be there to see it.”
“Grand show! Free admittance!” and Nora caught Brenda by the waist to whirl her two or three times around the room.
“Yes, Aunt Anna, we ’re coming almost immediately; I want to write a note first,” concluded Julia, in a lower tone, as the other two started to go downstairs.
The windows of Julia’s room looked out toward the sea, and now, as she gazed out, an involuntary exclamation of delight broke from her. The moon, seeming to rest on the edge of the waters, was of a deep orange, or rather of a color that was neither orange nor yellow nor red, but a mingling of all three, and it had a transparency that made it seem almost possible to look through it. Off to the right, the sharp reddish lamp of the lighthouse revolved in its regular course.
Julia counted the regular revolutions, then laughed at herself for doing so. “Creature of habit!” she murmured
