The slender girl was
sitting on the piazza behind some vines. When she saw me she quickly
closed the book she was reading, drew one foot from a little stool,
and rose to meet me. There was more color on her face than I had
supposed would be likely to find its way there, and her bright eyes
showed that she was not only surprised but glad to see me.
"I thought you were ever so far on your journey!" she said. "And how
did you get through that awful storm?"
"I want to know first about your foot," I said--"how is that?"
"My own opinion is," she answered, "that it is nearly well. Mother
knew exactly what to do for it; she wrapped it in wet cloths and dry
cloths, and this morning I scarcely think of it. But there is one
thing I want to tell you before you meet father and mother--for they
want to see you, I know. We talked a great deal about you last night.
You may have thought it strange I told you about the peas, but I had
to do it to explain why I could not ask you to stop.
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