And so the Maynard children, not understanding this, had accepted Miss Larkin as she was, and though they sometimes rebelled at her really unjust commands, they enjoyed to the full her often unwise indulgence. Now, they were surprised, indeed, to hear her say she had neglected them, but with their easy adaptability they were quite ready to accept present and future favors. However, King felt that justice was due her, so he said:
“Oh, come now, Miss Larkin; you’ve been pretty good to us. I think you’re a brick, don’t you, girls?”
“Yes, we do,” agreed Midge and Kitty, and then Marjorie went on:
“Did you say you expect company, Miss Larkin? Perhaps we can help you get ready for them.”
Miss Larkin smiled, as she remembered the “decorations” that met her eyes the day she arrived at the Maynard house, and she replied:
“No; you can’t help me, except by keeping out of the way as much as possible, and behaving as well as you can while they’re here.”
“We’ll try,” said Marjorie, earnestly; “who are they, Miss Larkin?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer, some friends of mine from Boston. They will stay two or three days. And I want to have everything as nice as possible, for they are rather particular people.”
“H’m,” said King. “If there’s anything I don’t go much on, it’s these ‘rather particular people.’ But to please you, Miss Larkin, I’ll promise to behave the very bestest I can. And if the girls don’t do likewise, I’ll pound ’em.”
“Huh!” said Midget, “guess you’d get pounded back!”