But for this very reason it was a favorite with the Maynard children, and by way of cheering their flagging spirits, they now entered into it with unusual zest.
“Do you s’pose Miss Larkin is playing this same game with Thomas and Sarah?” asked Marjorie, as during a lull in their own game they heard as much, if not more noise in the room above.
“’Spect she’s still moving furniture,” said King, after listening a moment. “Hope she doesn’t take a fancy to my new chiffonier.”
“We ought to have told her what time dinner is,” said Marjorie.
“You’re a gay old hostess, aren’t you, Mops?” teased her brother.
But Kitty said, “Oh, she’ll ask Sarah. Don’t let’s think any more about her till dinner time.”
This was good advice, and was promptly acted upon.
And so it was half-past six before the young Maynards saw their guest again.
Miss Larkin had asked the dinner hour of Sarah, and promptly to the minute she came downstairs, attired in a black silk dress, quite stiff with jet ornaments.
“I am your guest to-night, my dears,” she said, as she patted each one’s head in turn; “but to-morrow I shall myself take up the reins of government, and all household cares. I have a letter, left for me by your dear mother, in which she bids me do just as I think best in all matters. She tells me to order such things as I wish, and to command the servants as I choose. I’m sure I need not tell you I shall do my best to make you all comfortable and happy.”