"I must be--ah--vastly
older than you, Miss Phipps, and--"
"Nonsense!"
"Oh, but I am, really. One has only to look at me to see. And there
are times when I feel--ah--incredibly ancient; indeed, yes. Now in your
case, Miss Martha--"
"In my case I suppose I'm just a slip of a girl. For mercy sakes, don't
let's talk ages, no, nor think about 'em, either.... Do YOU want to go
out to-night to look at that moon, Mr. Bangs?"
"Why, yes--I--if you--"
"Then get your rubbers and cap. I'll be ready in a minute."
The moon was well up now and land and sea were swimming in its misty
radiance. There was not a breath of wind and the air was as mild as if
the month had been June and not May. Under their feet the damp grass and
low bushes swished and rustled. An adventurous beetle, abroad before his
time, blundered droning by their heads. From the shadow of a bunch of
huckleberry bushes by the path a lithe figure soared lightly aloft, a
furry paw swept across, and that June bug was knocked into the vaguely
definite locality known as the "middle of next week."
Martha uttered a little scream. "Goodness gracious me!" she exclaimed.
"Lucy Larcom, you bad cat, how you did scare me!"
Lucy leaped soundlessly over the clump of huckleberry bushes and
galloped gayly into the distance, his tail waving like a banner.
"WELL!" observed his mistress; "for a cat as old as you are I must say!"
"He feels young to-night," said Galusha.
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