And when she thought that it had stopped,
The clock was sure to go.
This was passed around, and caused such hilarity that Marguerite confiscated the book and, assuming an air of rigid decorum, sat staring straight before her with all the appalling dignity of a blonde wax doll.
Upon which, Millicent slyly regained the book, unobserved by the stern Matron, and drew a funny sketch of Marguerite wearing epaulets and a cocked hat, mounted on a fiery steed, and commanding a great army. The curly mop of hair, the stiff duck skirt, and the side-saddle, contrasted with the military pose and uplifted sword, was very funny; and when Millicent labeled it “A Daisy Napoleon,” and passed it over to Betty and Jessie, they giggled outright. But now they had passed Spring Grove, and the next station would be Long Beach. Gathering up their belongings, they were all ready, when the train stopped, to jump out on the platform, and there they found Uncle Ned and Aunt Molly waiting for them.
“All here?” sang out Uncle Ned, in his cheery way. “Where are your checks?”
A dozen metal medals were produced by Betty, who announced herself as Courier. It was an appalling lot of luggage to which these checks entitled Uncle Ned; but he soon found a man with a big wagon, and trunks, wheels, and boxes were lifted into it and despatched to the cottage, while Marjorie received frantic expressions of affection from Timmy Loo, who had had quite enough of baggage-cars for one while.
Uncle Ned politely put the spare seats of his carriage at the disposal of the girls, but the loyal crowd refused to be divided. Not they indeed! They would find a conveyance that would hold them all, or they would walk. It was only about a mile. But a capacious stage lumbered up, and the whole eight were bundled into it.
Timmy Loo, as was his custom when riding, jumped up on Marjorie’s shoulder, and sat there fairly quivering with curiosity to know what kind of a performance was going on, anyway. For his part, he couldn’t understand it at all. But Marjorie gave him a little whack on his nose, and he subsided into a wary indifference.
“Want any milk?” The loud words seemed to roll in at the door of the stage, and there on the steps stood a burly, red-faced man, smiling with fun and curiosity.
“I heard as how you young ladies was a-comin’, an’ I thought as you might want to engage milk at onct.”