I'd have to go anyway.

It's in my blood like the hint of summer in the air to-night." Aunt Agatha merely stared.

The Westfalls were congenital enigmas.
"A gypsy cart!" she gurgled presently, rising phoenix-like at last from a dumb-struck supineness.

"A gypsy cart! Well! A wheelbarrow wouldn't have surprised me more, Diane, a wheelbarrow with a motor!" "Don't you remember Mrs.Jarley's wagon ?" reminded Diane.

"It had windows and curtains--" "Surely," broke in Aunt Agatha with strained dignity, "you're not going in for waxworks like Mrs.Jarley!" "Dear, no!" laughed Diane, with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
"There are so many wild flowers and birds and legends to study I shouldn't have time!" "Great heavens," murmured Aunt Agatha faintly, "my ears have gone queer like mother's." "And maybe I'll not be back for a year," offered Diane calmly.