“Oh, shucks! I wish you’d marry some nice fellow, Sis, so that we’d always have a chaperon on tap and handy.”
She made a little face at him. “I am going to be old-maid aunt to your many children, Tommy-boy. I am sure you will have a full quiver. We will have to look for a chaperon.”
“Aunt Kate!” exclaimed Ruth. “Heavy’s Aunt Kate. She is just what Helen declares she wants to be—an old-maid aunt.”
“And a lovely lady,” cried Helen.
“Sure. Ask her. Beg her,” agreed Tom. “Tell her it is the crying need. We have positively got to have some fun.”
“Well, I suppose we may as well,” Ruth sighed, in agreement.
“Yes. We have always pampered the boy,” declared Helen, her eyes twinkling. “I know just what I’ll wear, Ruthie.”
“Oh, we’ve clothes enough,” admitted the girl of the Red Mill rather listlessly.
“Shucks!” said Tom again. “Never mind the fashions. Get that letter written, Sis.”
So it was agreed. Helen wrote, the letter was sent. With Jennie Stone’s usual impulsiveness she accepted for herself and “mon Henri” and Aunt Kate, promising to be at Cheslow within three days, and all within the limits of a ten-word telegram!