“We all miss Mother,” he said, “and Father, too.”
“But we try to be cheerful about it,” supplemented Kitty, who had an uncomfortable feeling that she must act as if at a “party.”
Then a silence fell, and had it not been for Miss Hart’s cheery little jokes and merry manner, the supper would have been a very quiet affair.
At half-past five they all went home, and, after polite good-byes, the three Maynards walked decorously across the street.
But as they entered their own gate, King cried out:
“Race you to the house!” and the three broke into a mad run for dear life.
Of course, King got there first, but plump Marjorie, puffing and blowing, came a close second, while Kitty, usually a swift runner, came walking behind them with great dignity.
“I can’t get off my Spencery air so soon,” she explained, and the others laughed, for Kitty was far more inclined toward elegant repose of manner than the other two madcaps.
“Huh! Guess you’ll have to!” cried King, and, taking her two hands in his own with a clinching grip, he began to whirl her round and round. This somewhat dangerous game, known as “Sail a boat,” required careful attention, if accidents were to be avoided; so, seeing she was in for it, Kitty gracefully capitulated and swung round faster and faster until she nearly had King off his feet.
“There, stop it!” commanded Marjorie. “You’ll get dizzy, and then you’re sure to fall. Quit it, King! We don’t want any more accidents!”