a family
of two who are a bride and bridegroom, and Mr. Storm. He is not at
Newport at all, though the others who are not at Moon Pond stay in a
pretty little hotel almost like a private house. It seems odd, they do
not have big hotels in this wonderful place. The rich people who have
made the new part so wonderful do not like to have tourists come and
stay if they can help it. They want Newport to belong to them, and so
it does, except the old town, which Molly Winston and her husband and I
like best of all.

Do you not think "Moon Pond" a fascinating name for a place? The pond is
in the garden of these friends where we spend two days and nights; and
in front of the large lawn, with its great clumps of blue hydrangea,
rolls the Atlantic Ocean. It _would_ be lovely to stay here, for it is a
beautiful place (a very big house built of gray shingles, soft gray like
the feathers on a mother bird's breast, and not looking too big in a
showy way, because it is rambling, with many verandas and unexpected
nooks), but they _will_ give us a dinner in celebration of being
engaged. That spoils everything. I am glad Mr. Storm will not be at the
dinner. I should not like to see his eyes. Mr. Caspian is not nice to
him, but he is better than at first, because I was very angry at some
things he did. I said I would not be engaged to a man who could be rude
to another poorer in money than himself.

Yes, I think Peter Storm must be _very_ poor in money, or he would not
go on in this situation with Mrs. Shuster, who has Mr. Caspian for one
of her best friends, yet lets him behave as he likes to her secretary.
Mr. Storm is a proud man and of a high temper. One can see that when his
eyes look like topaz fire, and his face turns red. Yet he shuts his
mouth and makes fists of his hands, and says nothing instead of hitting
or answering back. I am so sorry for him! He is the most interesting man
you could meet. But I suppose you never will meet, for he will be gone
out of my life long before you and I see each other once more--if we
ever do.

He does not like to be in a fashionable place, and Newport is perhaps
the most fashionable in this country. He came with us for the tour, as
far as New London, a big, nice town which has a river called the Thames,
like real London. Then he met a man he knew, and said he would join us
again after Newport, at Fall River, on the way to Boston, which will be
our next stop. The friend he met was rather myster