The children pranced into the room first, and waited in delighted impatience to hear Miss Larkin’s words of approval.
“What are you doing here?” she inquired, pleasantly. “Having a fair of some sort? Is this your playroom?”
“No, Miss Larkin,” explained Marjorie. “This is your room. We decorated it on purpose for you. We want you to feel welcome.”
The lady looked around at the bewildering array of greens and pink flowers.
It was a trying moment, for Miss Larkin’s tastes were inclined toward the Puritanical, and she liked a large room almost bare of furniture, and scrupulously prim and tidy.
Had she followed her inclinations, she would have said to Sarah, “Sweep all this rubbish out”; but as she saw the children’s expectant faces, evidently waiting for her to express her appreciation, her tactfulness served her just in time.
“For me!” she exclaimed; “you did all this for me! Why, you dear, dear children!”
They capered round her in glee. It was a success, then, after all.
“Yes,” cried Marjorie, “it’s all for you, and we’re so glad you like it. That is, the ‘Welcome’ is for you; the other sign, with the flags on it, is for Mother and Father—in their memory, you know.”
“Yes,” said Miss Larkin, though her lips were twitching, “yes, I know.”