“Yes,” confessed Sallie, tackling the last banister, “I’ve helped polish them all—it’s a wonderful saving of legs.”
“Go on in,” urged Henrietta, at the library door. “Nobody’s going to eat you.”
Sallie saw a man standing by the table. A man who smiled pleasantly. She looked at him. Suddenly her heart began to thump wildly.
“Is it—Is it—”
“Yes, it is,” cried Henrietta. “Your father.”
Sallie’s face was turning from white to pink and momentarily growing brighter, but still she seemed unable to move. Henrietta gave her a gentle shove toward her father’s outstretched arms.
“I found him in London,” said Henrietta. “He’ll tell you all about it. Good-by, I’ll see you later.”
It happened to be a warm day, so the girls had left their rooms and were wandering in the grove, under the sheltering hickory trees where earlier in the season, Charles had placed a number of benches. At sight of Henrietta waving her arms wildly, the girls moved toward her.
“Help yourselves to the benches,” said Henrietta, seating herself on the ground. “I have a tale to tell. How would you like to be just awfully surprised?”
“I guess we could stand it,” drawled Miss Wilson, who, as usual, had a large box of chocolates under her arm. “Have some candy?”