The Colonel glanced at his watch. “Morrison,” he said, “it’s a whole hour before train time. Would you mind if we went farther out on the Willowbend Road? I have a little business there that I would like to attend to.”
“It’s all right with me,” the other man replied, and Alfred, happening to look at his father, was sure that he had turned away to hide a smile.
Ten minutes later the car turned into the circling drive and stopped in front of the pillared porch of an old colonial home.
“What a pleasant place this is,” Geraldine said. “Who lives here, Colonel Wainright?”
“Some good friends of mine,” that gentleman replied as he prepared to leave the car. Then, as though it were a sudden afterthought, he added: “I wish you would all come in for one moment. We’ll have plenty of time to get the train.”
It seemed odd to the girl that they should call upon strangers just before leaving town, but she was too fond of the Colonel not to willingly do whatever he suggested, and so, leaning upon his proffered arm, she slowly climbed the wide steps.
To Geraldine’s surprise, the door was opened by Susan, and when they entered the wide hall she saw Matilda, who was beaming upon them. What could it mean? Glancing into the attractive room on either side, the girl was amazed to see the furniture which had been in their city home. Then suddenly she understood and, turning a radiant face toward her father, she exclaimed: “Oh, Dad, we aren’t going to Dorchester, are we? I’m so glad! But do tell me, how did you happen to find this wonderful place? I just adore old-fashioned colonial houses.”
“It’s where I was born,” her father replied. “Your grandmother and I have been planning it all to surprise you and Alfred.”
“Well, it sure is a surprise to me,” the lad declared, “and I’m bully glad that we’re going to stay in the country.”
“Do the girls know about it?” Geraldine asked, but before anyone could reply there sounded in the driveway the ringing of a cowbell, the tooting of horns and the gay laughter of young people.