agreeable attention in the world and always said just the right thing to tempt her tongue to more brilliant ardor. [152] And then in the afternoons, while Aunt[153] India slept and Holly couldn’t, just because the blood ran far too fast in her young veins, there were less stimulating but very comforting talks in the shade of the porch. And sometimes they walked, but,—for Holly had inherited the characteristic disinclination for overindulgence in that form of exercise,—not very frequently. Holly would have indorsed the proverb—Persian, isn’t it?—which says, in part, that it is easier to sit than to stand and easier to lie down than to sit. And Winthrop at this period would have agreed with her. Judged by Northern standards, Holly might have been deemed lazy. But we must remember that Holly came of people who had never felt the necessity of physical exertion, since there had always been slaves at hand to perform the slightest task, and for whom the climate had prohibited any inclination in that direction. Holly’s laziness was that of a kitten, which seldom goes out to walk for pleasure but which will romp until its breath is gone or stalk a sparrow for an hour untiringly. [153] [154] [154] By the end of the first week she and Winthrop had become the very good friends they had agreed to be. They had reached the point where it was no longer necessary to preface their conversation with an introduction. Now when Holly had anything to say—and she usually did—she plunged right in without any preliminary shivers. As this morning when, having given out the supplies for the day to Aunt Venus, she joined Winthrop under the magnolia, settling her back against the trunk and clasping her hands about her knees, “I reckon there are two sides to everything,” she said, with the air of one who is announcing the result of long study. Winthrop, who had arisen at her approach and remained standing until she had seated herself, settled back again and smiled encouragingly. He liked to hear her talk, liked the soft coo of her voice, liked the things she said, liked, besides, to watch the play of expression on her face. “Father always said that the Yankees had no right to interfere with the South[155] and that it wasn’t war with them, it was just homicide. Homicide’s where you kill someone else, isn’t it? I always get it mixed up with suicide.” [155] Winthrop nodded.
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