Miss Larkin was delighted with the prospect. A quiet and rather lonely spinster, she welcomed the idea of a stay in a merry, lively home, where she should be the commanding spirit over both children and servants.
And so, it was only the four small Maynards who raised objections. Though they didn’t actively dislike Miss Larkin, they felt she was not in sympathy with their childish affairs and they could not know that this arose from ignorance, not unwillingness on her part.
It was a long time since Miss Larkin had been a child, and when she was, she was not like the children of to-day.
She thought she understood young people, but her ideas were old-fashioned, and often quite contradictory to the Maynards’ views.
However, as Kitty had said, the matter was settled. Mr. and Mrs. Maynard were going, Miss Larkin was coming, and all they had to do was to accept the situation and make the best of it.
“And perhaps it won’t be so bad,” said Mother Maynard, as they talked it over. “When Miss Larkin is living here with you, she’ll be more chummy and jolly than when she just comes to call or to spend the day.”
“I hope so,” sighed Marjorie; “you see, it’ll be the worst for me. King’s a boy, and he won’t have to have much to do with her; Kitty doesn’t seem to mind her so much, anyway; and, of course Rosy Posy is too little to care. But I shall have to entertain her, and go walking with her, and,—and, oh, Mother, how I shall miss you!”
Marjorie fairly pulled King out of Mrs. Maynard’s arms, and flung herself into them, with one of her sudden bursts of demonstrative affection.
“Take me with you, Mothery,” she wailed; “oh, do take me with you!”
“Nonsense, Midget,” said Mrs. Maynard, knowing it was best to treat the matter lightly; “why, the family would all go to pieces if you weren’t here. As you just now implied you’re the most important member of the household, and you’re needed here to keep all running smoothly in my absence.”