Читать книгу Cathalina at Greycliff онлайн

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“We must talk it over. Are any of Cathalina’s friends going there? Not a soul? Well! What I want to suggest, Aunt Katherine, is that you all come over to dinner tonight. ‘Little Phil’ came home unexpectedly about half an hour ago. No, nothing wrong, finished his examinations and did not care, I suppose, to stay through the Commencement exercises. I’ve hardly seen him yet; he went right to his room for clean attire. O, is Uncle away? I’m sorry. But bring Ann Maria, anyway. Goodbye. Yes, thank you, goodbye.”

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The Van Buskirk dinner hour was approaching. After a heavy thunder storm with hail, a cool breeze freshened the hot city. The dainty lace curtains in the drawing room were blowing dangerously for their gossamer threads. But Sylvia Van Buskirk let them blow while she threw open every one of the long French windows which opened on the veranda. Its stone floor was covered with rose petals and leaves from the vines that twined around the great pillars. “What a storm it was!” she was thinking as she looked out. An easy chair was drawn near one of the windows and she was looking about for the evening paper when Mr. Van Buskirk appeared in evening dress. Some little services for her husband Sylvia kept as her own. It was not one of those houses in which the servants are always in evidence.