“I should say you did! Well, I don’t believe they’ll mind your looks. And, anyway, they’ll have to get used to it; you ’most always look like that.”
This was cold comfort, and Dolly’s feminine heart began to feel that their appearance would be greatly in their disfavour.
But she was of a sanguine nature, and, too, she was apt to devise expedients.
“I’ll tell you, Dick,” she said, as an idea came to her; “you know, ‘a soft answer turneth away wrath’; no,—I guess I mean ‘charity covereth a multitude of sins.’ Yes, that’s it. And charity is love, you know. So when we see the aunties, let’s spring into their arms and kiss ’em and love ’em ’most to death, and then they won’t notice our clothes.”
“All right, that goes. Let me see,—yes, your face is clean,”—Dick made a dab or two at it with his handkerchief. “How’s mine?”
“Yes, it’s clean,” said Dolly, “at least, there aren’t any smudges; but you’d better wash it before supper.”
“All right, I will. Here we go now, turning in at the gate. Be ready to jump out and fly at them if they’re on the porch.”
They weren’t on the porch, so the twins went in at the great front door, which was opened for them by a smiling maid, whose smile broadened as she saw them. Then, repressing her smile, she ushered them to the library door and into the presence of the two waiting aunts.
“Now!” whispered Dick, and with a mad rush, the two flew across the room like whirlwinds and fairly banged themselves into the arms of Miss Rachel and Miss Abbie Dana.
This sudden onslaught was followed by a series of hugs and kisses which were of astonishing strength and duration.