Pen looked plaintive, but the conductor’s “all aboard” call ended the conversation.
“We’ll say our prayers and our lessons like mother told us,” said Francis as they motored home, “but of course we can’t be too good all the time. I am going to ride a horse, a real horse—not a pony.”
“I am going to sit up late nights,” declared Billy.
“And I shall wear your clothes and play I am a boy,” Betty informed him.
“Well,” thought Pen, “after all these Declarations of Independence, I feel I must get in the forbidden fruit game, too. I know what I’ll do. I’ll not tell Kurt—not right away, at least.”
Half way to the ranch they stopped at Mrs. Merlin’s cottage.
“She certainly looks the part of propriety to perfection,” thought Pen, as she surveyed the tall, angular, spectacled woman, who came to the car, and whose grim features relaxed slightly after a keen glance at the young girl.
“I’ll have four children this time instead of three,” she said.
“What would she think,” reflected Pen, “if Kind Kurt should tell her what kind of a child the fourth one is!”
Back at Top Hill, Pen packed the luggage to be expressed to Mrs. Kingdon, and Jo made another trip to town, planning to go from there to Westcott’s.