It was five o'clock that afternoon when Patience, perched, a little white-clad sentry, on the gate-post, announced joyously—"They're coming! They're coming!"
Patience was as excited as if the expected "guest" were one in fact, as well as name. It was fun to be playing a game of make-believe, in which the elders took part.
As the gig drew up before the steps, Hilary looked eagerly out. "Will you tell me," she demanded, "why father insisted on coming 'round the lower road, by the depot—he didn't stop, and he didn't get any parcel? And when I asked him, he just laughed and looked mysterious."
"He went," Pauline answered, "because we asked him to—company usually comes by train—real out-of-town company, you know."
"Like visiting ministers and returned missionaries," Patience explained.
Hilary looked thoroughly bewildered. "But are you expecting company?
You must be," she glanced from one to another, "you're all dressed up,"
"We were expecting some, dear," her mother told her, "but she has arrived."
"Don't you see? You're it!" Patience danced excitedly about her sister.
"I'm the company!" Hilary said wonderingly. Then her eyes lighted up.
"I understand! How perfectly dear of you all."
Mrs. Shaw patted the hand Hilary slipped into hers. "You have come back a good deal better than you went, my dear. The change has done you good."