"I don't know about that. Your mother is so busy getting ready for the summer, and we are going away so soon, that I hardly see how we can arrange it."
Fannie looked at her father in blank dismay. But he went on unmoved:
"In fact, Fannie, I have been thinking that these meetings, as you call them, are becoming somewhat monotonous." (Fannie's eyes opened wide.) "No, I don't think we can have it at all."
This was too much, and Fannie's speechless indignation found voice: "Papa Allen, I didn't think this of you!" Then, seeing the well-known twinkle in his eyes, she perched herself on his knee and said, "Now, papa, what are you up to?"
"Well, as the immortal Peter Pindar says, as reported by McGuffey, 'I love to please good children,' and as you have all been 'kind and civil,' I have concluded to give you what I call a grand treat. So prepare for a shock."
"Go ahead, papa. I'm not afraid of it at all; what I was afraid of was—none."
"Well, what do you say to my taking all of you, the whole company of warriors, to Mammoth Cave?"
Fannie sprang from his knee and fairly danced around the room for joy. Then she quieted herself and said, "When, papa?"
"Just before the Fourth, I think. Your mother and I will go, and possibly Ernestine's uncle, who will be here by that time; and I thought we might invite 'Miss Kitty,' of whom I have heard so much."
So it came about that on a warm afternoon in July, a party of eight, escorted to the boat by several friends, ascended the narrow staircase of the steamboat, and made themselves comfortable on deck until the "All aboard!" was heard, when the escort hurried down the stairs to the wharf.