"Haven't we had a heavenly time to-night, Carita," Blue Bonnet asked between yawns, after they had retired. "Didn't Kitty Clark look pretty? I'm going to get after her hair to-morrow and do it like mine. Won't it be sweet? She has such loads."
By noon the next day, each of the We Are Sevens were wearing their locks parted, and coiled in a knot—regardless of the adaptability of noses.
Saturday was quite as busy as Friday had been. There was another gathering at Alec's in the evening; a farewell party, for very soon Woodford was to know Alec no more.
The General seemed a bit sad as he watched the young people in their frolics. He was facing a long separation from his grandson: the old home was going to be very lonely without him. Many times he had wished that Boyd Trent's record would permit of his bringing him back again, but fresh grievances had followed in Boyd's wake, and reports of him were disappointing in the extreme. And yet the General was happy—very happy. Alec's health had been restored, and he had his appointment; two things for which the General was devoutly thankful.
Sunday there was the service in the little church. Blue Bonnet did not have to be urged to go as on that first occasion. She and Carita were dressed and waiting when Denham drove round, exactly at a quarter before eleven, as he had been in the habit of doing for almost a quarter of a century.
"That was a very nice sermon," Blue Bonnet remarked on the way home. "I think Doctor Blake is growing. Don't you, Aunt Lucinda?"
Miss Clyde smiled.
"Or Blue Bonnet is," she said quickly.
"Perhaps that is it, Aunt Lucinda. Anyway he's more interesting."