"Enough of _him_!" muttered Cope to himself
presently, and began to cast about for other company. Amy Leffingwell was
strolling along alone: he caught a branch of haw from before her meditative
face and proffered a general remark about the beauty of the day and the
interest in the changing prospect.
Amy's pretty pink face brightened. "It _is_ a lovely day," she said.
"And the more of this lovely weather we have in October--and especially in
November--the more trouble it makes."
"Surely you don't want rain or frost?"
"No; but it becomes harder to shut the house up for good and all. Last fall
we opened and closed two or three times. We even tried coming out in
December."
"In mackintoshes and rubber boots?"
"Almost. But the boots are better for February. At least, they would have
been last February."
"It seems hard to imagine such a future for a place like this,--or such a
past."
"Things can be pretty rough, I assure you. And the roads are not always as
good as they are to-day." And when the pump froze, she went on, they had to
depend upon the lake; and when the lake froze they had to fall back on
melted snow and ice.
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