“I’m not really ill, Ed,” she said; “it’s more of a pleasure trip than a health trip, I think. And six weeks will be quite long enough to burden Miss Larkin with these four beautiful but not very manageable children.”
“And, oh, Father,” cried Marjorie, “there’ll be an Ourday while you’re gone! What shall we do about that?”
“Bless my stars!” said Mr. Maynard; “so there will. I hadn’t thought of that! Shall we give up the trip, Helen?”
“No,” said Kitty, who always took things seriously; “we can have two Ourdays together when you come back.”
“Bravo, Kitsie!” said her father; “you have a logical head. I think you had better take charge of the family while we’re gone.”
“I’m not old enough,” said Kitty, practically. “But I’ll help all I can.”
“I know you will,” said Mrs. Maynard, caressing her. “And you’ll all do the best you can. I know my quartette, and I can trust them to do right,—if they think in time.”
“That’s just it,” said Mr. Maynard, his eyes twinkling. “I expect King or Midget will pull the house down around Miss Larkin’s ears, and then excuse themselves by saying they forgot it was mischievous until it was all over.”
“All over Miss Larkin, I suppose you mean,” said Marjorie, chuckling at her own joke.
“Oho!” laughed Kingdon; “Mopsy’s quite a wit, isn’t she? Give us another, Midget!”