“And anyway,” said Kitty, “they’ll be home next week, and we can tell them all about it.”
“My! but I’m glad they’re coming,” said Marjorie; “seems to me I miss Mother more every day.”
“Oh, Marjorie,” cried Miss Larkin; “haven’t I looked after you pretty well?”
“Yes, indeed, Larky, dear, you have. But, of course, you’re not Mother, and somehow it does make a difference. I hope you’ll stay a while after she gets home, and then we’ll have you both.”
“Perhaps,” said Miss Larkin, smiling; “and now, if you’ve finished your ice cream, let’s go back to our trees.”
After Marjorie was again at her stand, selling oranges, Mr. Abercrombie came strolling by.
“Well, my orange maiden,” he said, “I think I must patronize your very attractive tree. No, I don’t care for grab-bag prizes. I’ll take some jars of orange marmalade. You know, we must take the bitter with the sweet.”
Marjorie liked the merry old gentleman, and to amuse him, she told him the story of her orangeade and the leaky ice-tub.
He laughed heartily. “Well, well,” he exclaimed, “that was too bad, that was too bad! I suppose you felt terribly chagrined, eh?”
“Yes, I did,” Marjorie admitted, “but, you know, we must take the bitter with the sweet.”