They stopped at the corner, Betsy declaring she could not go a step further; therefore, walking backwards, they called to one another till Elizabeth, stumbling against the protruding roots of a tree, thought best to face about, calling over her shoulder: “See you at church tomorrow.”
CHAPTER II
Prisoners
ELIZABETH and Betsy were left in possession. Even Electra had the afternoon and evening off on Thanksgiving Day. Elizabeth’s big brother, Dick, with his chum, Hal Tyson, Betsy’s brother, had gone to a football game, taking Kathie and one of her girl friends. Mr. and Mrs. Hollins had determined upon a drive, after the hearty Thanksgiving dinner, and had taken Babs with them to see some relatives five miles distant, while Bert had been allowed to go to the game, too.
“I don’t know about leaving you two little girls all alone,” said Mrs. Hollins doubtfully, as she was putting on her hat. “Don’t you think you’d better come with us? We can take the surrey just as well as the buggy, and then there will be plenty of room.”
“Oh, dearest love-mother, we don’t want to go,” replied Elizabeth. “We’d so much rather stay here and play by ourselves. We will not get into any mischief, I solemnly asseverate. We’re going to play up in my playroom and the attic and we will be right there when you come back. We’ve eaten so much dinner that we shall not want to descend to the nether regions for any food and we will be as safe as crickets under a big stone.”
“You ridiculous child, I hope you will be safe. I will see that the outside doors and windows are fastened and we will take the latch-key. If you promise to play in the attic and not to do anything with matches or fire, I think I can trust you.”
“We won’t have a single sentiment of fire or matches and we will be just as good as pie,—as the pumpkin pie we had for dinner. I’ll tell you what we’re going to play, mother. It is very much according to the day, a historical sort of entertainment: we’re going to play Mayflower and Plymouth Rock and Indians. I’ve thought it all out. The big chest is to be Plymouth Rock and the old rocking-chair the Mayflower. You won’t mind our hitching the chair along the floor a little so as to make it more like sailing. I haven’t decided whether I shall be John Alden or Myles Standish; maybe I can be both. Betsy is going to be Priscilla, and we are going to be very historical and thankful, so you see we shall not have any chance of getting into mischief.”
“Then if that is the case I can leave you. There are ginger-snaps in the stone jar in the pantry, if you get hungry.”
“Oh, but I don’t believe the Pilgrims had ginger-snaps, do you? Perhaps they had plum-duff. I don’t know what that is exactly, but it sounds Englishy and old-fashioned. But if our muscles need refreshment after our arduous journey we will seek the stone jar, mother.”
“Betsy will stay with you till someone comes, I suppose.”