The Lightning Conductor Discovers America

Isl

eautif

We Are

non

ust after one has thought, "Crack! the sky tumbles!" But y

n a story of fairies, and I ask

see by them that romance is not truth. It is only the dull things which are real. Yet for you and me, life is now running like the stories at which these critics laugh the most. That is why I ask myself, "Can such things go on?" For it seems that critics must know better than me (or should I say "I?"). Perhaps they have reason. Perhaps we shall end in a monot

re that our Monsieur Moncourt is a cook. But, what a word for him! He is a real Personage. He is a Celebrity. All the world is proud to speak with him, and he can have as much money as he wants. That is why it is so curious he should come to us for a little nothing at all, just through the influence of Mr. Storm, which also I do not understand. But, as I tell you, if there is a cousinhood or an unclehood, it is not a thing for shame. The young Marcel will of course tell Madame la Marquise everything the moment he passes so far as to ask for you. And then, if he is so rich and so beau, and has the blood of the de Moncourts in his veins, what does the res

for myse

promenades, without a bad mark on my conduct! Larry does not object at all. He laughs. Girls are born to love the flirt, he says, and indeed, dear Adrienne, he loves it him

t a sense of duty. It is for this he stays at Kidd's Pines to welcome new visitors whil

gs and good endings, for she and Jack go on having romance and grand adventures. She believes that

almost in the French way. When I have answered no, I was too young (that is the best to say when you are caught by surprise and wish not to offend). He told me that Larry wished me to think of him, because they had made up a big friendship, they two, and there were deep reasons why I should engage myself. I went to Larry to inquire of this, and he said he did not go so far as Mr. Caspian thought. However, it would be good fo

nd emotions, like a beehive filled with bees that keep flying home with honey. But he can talk, no matter what happens, and he says things I remember. They seem to paint my brain with pictures which he gives me to keep. So his words are like his eyes, not to be forgotten. You know in our garden at the conv

es to stamp out these thoughts, to plant others in me.

pt to-day when I am not in the car, as you shall hear. It is too pleasant having Peter by me when I have to cry, "Oh, what a lovely place!" or, "See the wonderful view!" or, "Here is a funny sight!" He has a mood which matches mine, and it would not be so with Mr. Caspian. I do not know why, but Mr. Caspian reminds me of an ir

so wonderful. I feel things in double, as with two souls. Yet of course I am not in love. Do not think that, or you will be wrong. It is my intellect which is waking up, after it was kept in pink cotton by the Sisters; for you

s of Easthampton: the windmills and the old houses, and the big waves. You will like the one of the long fierce wave like a white cat's paw. They call it the "sea puss." I hoped it meant that really: a giant cat that seized bathers, and people far up the beach as if they were

very, very old, full

cted, charming shapes, covered with flowers. Girls and boys who like to dance and have fun all summer like it better than Easthampton, so their mothers have to like it better, too. You will not believe when you look at the pictures that not three hundred years ago, if there had been postcards then, you would have seen only forty rough log-houses built behind palisade

dispositions. Their parties-yes, they had parties!-were in their cornfields-oh, miles of beautiful cornfields that are covered with dark mysterious cedars now, like sad thoughts of the sunny past. The Indian families came to help each other in the c

s (the most fascinating shops, like at Vichy and Aix where your dear mother took us the summer before

ould love to have that. There are lots more windmills, soft and gray and fluffy-looking, li

ough it was easy as flying in a dream; and the dunes were the colour dunes would be in dreams: gold and silver mingled with warm blue shadows. They had a look of gold and blue flame in fires made of driftwood, because the sun was so bright on them that day, and if y

think he will ever settle down to be happy in one place; but he likes Long Island to rest in while he takes a long breath. He says what I call its

in, or flat place." But never mind, there has been time enough since the hills were named to mix things up! And most people care more about talking "golf" in this part of the

hanting duck ponds you could sit for days to watch! And the ducks are not looking like the dull ducks of every day, in other places of the world. They are most

skin by a bad godmother) jewels fell out of his mouth. So one could imagine it had been with Quogue: and the jewels turned into beautiful houses. The houses are very old now; that is, old for America, which

ow that it means "long tidal stream" you hear it differently ever after. And it is fun to find out that "Quogue" is all th

ne modern places as at Southampton and dreamy old ones at Quogue, and cottages pretty and modest as violets, on the way through the woods to Westhampton, you can't put out o

l woman too much, and was shot by an arrow. After that they all fought, and a great many Indians were killed, and they got to think that every European was treacherous. If you, dear Adrienne, could see a place called Coney Island, it would seem funny to you that John Colman (who liked the Indian girl too well) should be buried there. It is not at all a place to be buried in; and he feels that, for his ghost walks at night. What a wonder they do not hire it for a side show! The story of John Colman is not the only romance Captain Winston has found in the old books. There are lots, but the nicest one happened in th

the Indians, that many roads are cut through lovely woods. Could you forget names like "Speonk" and "Moriches?" I know you could not forget the woods either, if you saw them once, or the perfume of the pines and the yellow lili

oonlight, or come on the road between Moriches and Bellport, you can see prints of naked feet, one straight in front of the other, as the Indians used to walk; and they are not the feet of Europ

So I said "yes, thank you!" and that put me into trouble, because then Mr. Caspian bought me something also: a tiny model of an old whaling ship. It was perfect, and cost a great deal. I knew, because I had asked the price and he had heard me. But what could I do? I was thinking what to say, when the wife of the shop man rushed up and reminded him that the model was engaged, and could not be sold to this gentl

We all tried, and Mr. Caspian and I spoke it the same way-at least, it sounded to me the same. But Molly made Peter Storm umpire (that means a person who decides when there is a dispute; and is hated if in baseball or football), and Peter decided for me, because I put the emphasis in the right place-"Ronkonkoma." What do you suppose the prize was? The fat watch I had wanted! It seemed that Peter (I would not call him Peter to his face) had bought it for Molly. And I may as well tell you at this same time, she gave

I should think he had arranged these two things to happen with the help of

ch you will have heard of because they are of an importance like royalties. They are born cl

or the joy. There is no dust and no crowd and no noise, and no policemen springing out like Jacks from boxes; and they let you go forty miles an hour. It is a pity to rush so fast, though, unless you turn and go back again, because the fun is over too soon. Besides, there is scenery of every kind. One would say they had brought bits from every part of the world. There are woods, dark perfumy pines, and white birches like bridal processions of young girls in whi

e after the other, and sit in rocking-chairs rocking back and forth like so many old ladies do. But I should not be old. And I would have a man sitting in another chair, rocking, too. He would look like Peter Storm in some ways-that is, he would have such eyes as Peter's. I cannot take interest in other eyes now, his are so living, and they have all the expressions as with ponds which show the moods of the sky. But I would not say this to another than you, not even to Molly! And speaking of ponds, chérie, on Long Island they carpet them with water lilies, or else with ducks, and sometimes both, beautifully mixed together. For modern ducks to be smart and f

ident and explorer and a little of everything. He lives at Oyster Bay when he has time to live anywhere. And he is a "great chief," so it is well to have a place called Sagamore Hill. You will see why when you learn more about India

an. For a surprise to us, Marcel Moncourt-our great Marcel!-had asked a man he knew to let us dispose at his house-I mean, of his house. The

Palace of Aladdin. All that misses is a roc's egg, hanging up in the

ence to Marcel; but then, we owe Marcel to Mr. Storm; and I think it annoys Mr. Caspian very, very much that it is thanks to Peter we are here. He would like always to be the important one, and he feels it should be his right to be of

iend of Marcel Moncourt's, who is always away since he owned it and will not let but w

ut that work in front of all other engagements. He did so, but trying to keep his contracts with every one gave him in the end an illness many people in this country have, called nervous prostration. I suppose it is an American disease, as one does not have it elsewhere. That was the first bad luck of the house, but not the last. When it was finished, before even it was named, the old Stanislaws died in a sad way-a way Mr. Caspian said I would not like to hear of; and the son died, too. Mr. Caspian thought the house would come to him with everything else; but no, it had been

o thank! Last night when we arrived we were shown to our rooms by a Japanese butler. Each room has its bath, and not only that, but its own little salon. (My suite is French, Molly's and Captain Winston's is English of the Elizabeth time; and there are rooms Spanish, Italian, Egyptian, Chinese, Russian, and Greek.) We bathed and dressed, and went down to dine in a circular dining-room

ever have been to the Museum of Athens, and "a man of his stamp" was no judge. It was only an impertinenc

. Caspian is a little man without distinction, and Pet

ere socialist, and for you

o tell me. "Since I came into so

ittle, I suppose!" That was the cat in me, for it is true he is growing fat just at his waistcoat. But I remembered in time my prom

retense of much work; but he tried to make me believe it was not his wish at all. "I am Mrs. Shuster's friend, and she asks my advice," he said. "Honestly I do think Storm is a slacker about work. It looks as if he'd only engaged as her secretary to get into a class above his own and enjoy himself. I'm afraid he'll lose his job if he doesn't 'watch' out, the way Mrs. Shuster feels. But she's g

he spoke, for I listened har

ive to-morrow. I will tell Mr. Storm he is

path, and I said, "I will break it now." "Do!" he whispered back; and

id: "I hear you are asked to correct proofs of a peace tract. Is it hard to do, or could I help when I finish a long letter I write to-morrow? I have seen so many beautiful sights, I shall mix all

not need to explain for him to unders

s in a good-natured yet almost sad way, as if he thought it wrong to make fun of what a dead man did for love of his son. Peter has sat in the garden, too, working hard, and we have not disturbed each other. The Japanese brought us lunch out of doors in a summer house built like a temple in a Roman garden. We

l why. When I have helped him with the proofs perhaps. (I am to copy his marks on a second set, and I shall try so hard not to have mi

ose girl-or prince

tr