December rushed along toward Christmas and Peggy began to feel just a trifle sad because her aunt had written nothing about her coming home for the holidays, while almost all the other girls were going. She rather hated to think of the empty halls of Andrews in vacation time with no company other than that of Mrs. Forest. But one day Katherine had looked beamingly up from a letter and had then jumped up and thrown her arms around Peggy’s neck with the explanation that Peggy was invited home with her by all of Katherine’s folks.
Oh, what an enthusiastic preparation began then, what long discussions as to whether to take the blue crêpe de chine or the golden satin, what oodles of postcards were dispatched to friends with the good news and new temporary address on them!
To be part of the great business of going away for vacation! Peggy’s heart thrilled every time an expressman tramped through the halls bearing some girl’s trunk on his broad shoulders. Any afternoon now they might come for her trunk, hers and Katherine’s, packed delightfully in one, after many friendly quarrels as to which one should have the left hand tray and which the right and who could lay her shoes in the lower compartment and which should take her manicure set, since one would do for both girls, and trunk room was precious.
When, seated at last, breathless and full of anticipation, in a taxi with their trunk up on top, the two girls waved through the window to those who had not yet gone, Peggy was too happy to speak, and two bright red spots burned in her dimpling cheeks and her eyes were as blue with excitement as electric sparks.
She had never ridden on a train—a Pullman—before with just girls as company. Her aunt had always taken her the few places she had been. Yet now she was actually buying her ticket herself and checking her trunk, and then boarding a great, wonderful, cross-country de luxe train,—she and Katherine, all by themselves, with as grown-up sang-froid as if they had “all the while been conductors or brakemen,” Katherine expressed it joyously.
The porter put their suit-cases under their berths, and Peggy’s little gloved hand dropped a quarter nonchalantly into his palm while she tried to twist her eager, excited mouth into a traveled expression.
“Well,” murmured Katherine, settling back comfortably on the plush seat, “we’re really on our way. Oh, Peggy, I’m so glad you’re going with me—oh, won’t it be fun to introduce you to father and mother and brother Jack and the canary bird!”
They had taken an early afternoon train, and it was a long while to wait for dinner. The wonder and glory of the dinner Peggy was already picturing.
“I’m hungry just thinking about it,” she said, when the train was well under way.
“Let’s have the porter get us something,” suggested Katherine, “what would you like—a lemonade?”