Gradually the boarders faded from the room, leaving us to a hurried family council. It was Monday; there was cold roast left over from yesterday’s dinner, and a washerwoman in the kitchen. Yet, strangely enough, no one thought of rebellion or complaint.
“Mrs. Bo-gardus,” murmured Haze, in a voice as nearly like Miss Brown’s as he could make it, “Mrs. Bo-gardus, you know, is coming to lunch!”
And then, for no earthly assignable reason, we dropped into various receptacles along the way and melted and sobbed with mirth. Robin caught his knees in both arms and rolled over and over on the rug, a corner of the tablecloth stuffed in his mouth. Ernie began to caper and frisk madly about, hugging the bewildered and rebellious kitten. I sank helpless on the window-seat, and hid my face among the curtains.
“Shut the door, Hazard,” gasped mother, as soon as she was able to articulate. “They mustn’t hear us!”
At which the gale began afresh. Somehow the situation struck us as irresistibly funny.
“Well,” chuckled Hazard, weakly at last, “there’s no lark here for me. I shan’t meet her. I’ll be away at school.”
“And I have a holiday to-day and to-morrow, because they are repairing the furnaces! How jolly!” cried Ernie.
“Will she come in a hansom?” piped Robin, “or by fairy?”
He meant the ferry; and these two modes of conveyance are the most elegant known to his youthful experience.
“Yankee-doodle came to town,