"They're coming to Boston with me," Josie corrected, "then we'll be back together for Thanksgiving."
Shirley, meekly taking her first sewing lessons under Pauline's instructions, and frankly declaring that she didn't at all like them, dropped the hem she was turning. "They're coming to New York with me; and in the between-times we'll have such fun that they'll never want to come home."
Pauline laughed. "It looks as though Hilary and I would have a busy winter between you all. It is a comfort to know where we are going."
"Remember!" she warned, when later the party broke up. "Four o'clock Friday afternoon! Sharp!"
"Are we going out in a blaze of glory?"
Bell questioned.
"You might tell us where we are going, now, Paul," Josie urged.
Pauline shook her head. "You wait until Friday, like good little girls. Mind, you all bring wraps; it'll be chilly coming home."
Pauline's turn was to be the final wind-up of the club's regular outings. No one outside the home folks, excepting Tom, had been taken into her confidence—it had been necessary to press him into service. And when, on Friday afternoon, the young people gathered at the parsonage, all but those named were still in the dark.
Besides the regular members, Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Dayre, Mr. Allen, Harry Oram and Patience were there; the minister and Dr. Brice had promised to join the party later if possible.
As a rule, the club picnics were cooperative affairs; but to-day the members, by special request, arrived empty-handed. Mr. Paul Shaw, learning that Pauline's turn was yet to come, had insisted on having a share in it.