'I must consider,' said Monica with a smile, 'but one can't do these things offhand--that is worse than doing nothing. I'll tell you what to do NOW. Why not go and stay with Aunt Anne? She would like to see you, I know, and I have always thought it rather lazy of you not to go there--she is rather a remarkable woman, and it's a pretty country. Have you ever been there?'
Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strong Tell eager Tales of mighty Deeds; Enough if my sequestered song To hush'd and twilight Gardens leads! Clear Waters, drawn from secret Wells Perchance may fevered Lips assuage; The Tales an elder Pilgrim tells To such as go on Pilgrimage. Such the soft Path my Words would trace, Thus with the moving Waters move; So leave, across the Ocean's Face, A glimmering Stair to Hope and Love.
'I must consider,' said Monica with a smile, 'but one can't do these things offhand--that is worse than doing nothing. I'll tell you what to do NOW. Why not go and stay with Aunt Anne? She would like to see you, I know, and I have always thought it rather lazy of you not to go there--she is rather a remarkable woman, and it's a pretty country. Have you ever been there?'