She dreaded it
because she herself didn't know just what she was going to write
about it. Everything was still in the first vague, delightful state
of just feeling it--without any words as yet; and grown-ups don't
seem to understand about this. But they were all staring at her, so
she must say something.
"Well, I haven't worked it out exactly--it's just sort of pouring in
over me."
"What's pouring over you?" demanded Aunt Nettie.
"Why--the sea of Life," replied Missy desperately.
"For Heaven's sake!" commented Aunt Nettie again.
"It sounds vague; very vague," said father. Was he smiling or
frowning?--he had such a queer look in his eyes. But, as he left the
table, he paused behind her chair and laid a very gentle hand on her
hair.
"Like to go out for a spin in the car?"
But mother declined for her swiftly. "No, Missy must work on her
thesis this evening."
So, after supper, Missy took tablet and pencil once more to the
summerhouse. It was unusually beautiful out there--just the kind of
evening to harmonize with her uplifted mood. Day was ending in still
and brilliant serenity.
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