“Sounds good to me,” agreed King. “Come on, ladies. Only we mustn’t stay too long.”
So they set off, Miss Larkin, Rosy Posy, and all, for a spring ramble.
It proved to be just the thing to divert their attention, and though they didn’t forget the expected arrival, they became greatly engrossed in the wonders they found.
Marjorie was leader, because Miss Hart had taken her and Delight on two spring rambles already, and she knew how to look for the tiny wild flowers, that scarce showed their blossoms as yet.
“Those are marshmallows,” announced Marjorie, proud of her knowledge, as she pointed to some rather tall green stems, growing near the brook.
“Marshmallows! Huh!” cried King in disdain. “Marshmallows don’t grow on reeds!”
“I don’t mean the candy kind,” protested Marjorie. “These are a pink flower—when the flowers come—and I know they’re it, for Miss Hart told me so. I think they’re in bud.”
“Those aren’t buds, they’re last year’s seedpods,” said King.
“I don’t think so, but let’s go down and see. The principal thing you do on a spring ramble is learn things.”
They were on a high bank, and the descent to the growing things down by the brook was rather steep, and very stony.