"Isn't it jolly, though?"
"Miss Goldthwaite—Miss Walcott; Miss Shannon—Miss Goldthwaite;—my sister, Mrs. Linceford."
"Me voici!" And a third came up suddenly, laying a hand upon each of the Haddens from behind.
"You, Sin Saxon! How many more?"
"We're coming, Father Abraham! All of us, nearly, three hundred thousand more—or less; half the Routh girls, with Madam to the fore!"
"And we've got all the farther end of the wing downstairs,—the garden bedrooms; you've no idea how scrumptious it is! You must come over after tea, and see."
"Not all, Mattie; you forget the solitary spinster."
"No, I don't; who ever does? But can't you ignore her for once?"
"Or let a fellow speak in the spirit of prophecy?" said Sin Saxon. "We're sure to get the better of Graywacke, and why not anticipate?"
"Graywacke?" said Jeannie Hadden. "Is that a name? It sounds like the side of a mountain."