"Then it's a good deal more than I do," Pauline cut in.
"That there are several young people here desirous of joining our little sight-seeing trip this afternoon."
From around the corner of the house at that moment peeped a small freckled face, the owner of which was decidedly very desirous of joining that trip. Only a deep sense of personal injury kept Patience from coming forward,—she wasn't going where she wasn't wanted—but some day—they'd see!
Shirley clapped her hands delightedly. "How perfectly jolly! Oh, I am glad you asked me to join the club."
"I'll go tell Hilary!" Pauline said. "Tom, however—"
"I beg your pardon, Miss?"
Pauline laughed and turned away.
"Oh, I say, Paul," Tom dropped his mask of pretended dignity, "let the
Imp come with us—this time."
Pauline looked doubtful. She, as well as Tom, had caught sight of that small flushed face, on which longing and indignation had been so plainly written. "I'm not sure that mother will—" she began, "But I'll see."
"Tell her—just this first time," Tom urged, and Shirley added, "She would love it so."