"Now we'll drop you at the Monument," planned Mrs. Littell, as the car bore them down the driveway. "You can walk from there to that pretty tea-room—what is its name, Bobby?—can't you?"
"The Dora-Rose, you mean, Mother," supplied Bobby. "Of course we can walk. But Carter is taking the longest way to the Monument."
"We're going to the station first," answered her mother. "Betty wants to send her uncle a telegram, and Carter is going to leave directions to have the trunks sent up to the house. You have your baggage checks, haven't you, girls?"
They produced them, and Carter slipped them into his pocket. Betty had leisure and opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the handsome building as they approached it this perfect morning, and she could not help exclaiming.
"Yes, it is fine, every one says so," admitted Bobby, with the carelessness of one to whom it was an old story. "Finer, daddy says, than the big terminals in New York."
Libbie had the advantage of being the only one of the girls who had been to New York.
"This has lots more ground around it," she pronounced critically. "Course in a city like New York, they need the land for other buildings. But you just ought to see the Pennsylvania Station there!"
"All right, take your word for it," said Bobby. "Where do we go to send a telegram, Momsie?"
Mrs. Littell smiled.
"Betty and I are all who are necessary for that little errand," she said firmly. "The rest of you stay right in the car."