[Theodora's face, rosy with blushes, appeared in the opening.]
[Theodora went flying across the road.]
["'What do you think of this?' she demanded."]
["Teddy, dear, this is my brother Archie, come at last."]
["'Give me my fan and gloves, Hu,' she said."]
[Something in the expression of the blue eyes above her made her own eyes droop]
CHAPTER ONE
The five McAlisters were gathered in the dining-room, one rainy night in late August. In view of the respective dimensions of the family circle and the family income, servants were few in the McAlister household, and division of labor was the order of the day. Old Susan had cleared away the table and brought in the lamp; then she retired to the kitchen, leaving the young people to themselves.
Hope was darning stockings. She had one of Hubert's socks drawn on over her hand, which showed, white and dainty, through the great, ragged hole. Hubert sat near her with little Allyn on his knee, tiding over a crisis in the young man's temper by showing him pictures in the dilapidated Mother Goose which had done duty for successive McAlisters, from seventeen-year-old Hope down.
"Stop kicking brother," he commanded, as Allyn lifted up his voice and his heels in vigorous protest against things in general, and the approach of the sandman in particular. "Listen, Allyn,—
'There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.'"
Theodora appeared on the threshold of the great china closet, where she was washing the cups and plates. She had a dish-cloth in one hand and three or four spoons in the other.
"You don't put enough emphasis into it, Hu," she said mockingly. "This is the way it should sound, like this,—
'There was a little cow,
And it had a little calf,
And it wouldn't ever go to bed, bed, bed.'