The Golden Road
Poor, poor Felicity! If she had not always been so horribly vain over her cooking
and so scornfully contemptuous of other people's aspirations and mistakes along
that line, I could have found it in my heart to pity her.
The Story Girl would have been more than human if she had not betrayed a little
triumphant amusement, but Peter stood up for his lady manfully.
"The rusks were splendid, anyhow, so what difference does it make what they
were raised with?"
Dan, however, began to taunt Felicity with her tooth-powder rusks, and kept it up
for the rest of his natural life.
"Don't forget to send the Governor's wife the recipe for them," he said.
Felicity, with eyes tearful and cheeks crimson from mortification, rushed from the
room, but never, never did the Governor's wife get the recipe for those rusks.
VII. We Visit Cousin Mattie's
One Saturday in March we walked over to Baywater, for a long- talked-of visit to
Cousin Mattie Dilke. By the road, Baywater was six miles away, but there was a
short cut across hills and fields and woods which was scantly three. We did not
look forward to our visit with any particular delight, for there was nobody at
Cousin Mattie's except grown-ups who had been grown up so long that it was
rather hard for them to remember they had ever been children. But, as Felicity
told us, it was necessary to visit Cousin Mattie at least once a year, or else she
would be "huffed," so we concluded we might as well go and have it over.
"Anyhow, we'll get a splendiferous dinner," said Dan. "Cousin Mattie's a great
cook and there's nothing stingy about her."
"You are always thinking of your stomach," said Felicity pleasantly.
"Well, you know I couldn't get along very well without it, darling," responded Dan
who, since New Year's, had adopted a new method of dealing with Felicity--
whether by way of keeping his resolution or because he had discovered that it
annoyed Felicity far more than angry retorts, deponent sayeth not. He invariably
met her criticisms with a good-natured grin and a flippant remark with some
tender epithet tagged on to it. Poor Felicity used to get hopelessly furious over it.
Uncle Alec was dubious about our going that day. He looked abroad on the
general dourness of gray earth and gray air and gray sky, and said a storm was
brewing. But Cousin Mattie had been sent word that we were coming, and she