Just as the last bow was adjusted, the bell rang three short taps, father's ring, and Mary Jane, looking all the world like a fairy dropped onto the stairs by some magic mistake, dashed down to greet him.
"Everything fits and it's all just right and don't I look nice and we're waiting for you to bring the trunk up from the basement and Alice has made apple dumplings—green apple dumplings for dinner so you'd better hurry," she finished, breathlessly.
"For that I will," laughed Mr. Merrill, "my! but you do look grown up, pussy!" he added as he looked her over carefully. "Shoes fit all right? Everything has to be just so for Class Day you know, young lady, for folks want to be comfortable as well as beautiful when they go to all day 'doings.'"
"She thinks everything is all right," explained Mrs. Merrill. "You look pleased about something. Is there anything new?"
"Maybe so," said Mr. Merrill so mysteriously that Mary Jane stopped in the hall to listen. "Think you could get off Saturday evening instead of Sunday morning as you had planned?"
Mrs. Merrill thought a second. "Yes, I guess we could," she decided, "it wouldn't make a lot of difference either way. But I thought you had our reservations?"
"Changed them," said Mr. Merrill. "How would you like me to go along as far as Niagara and spend Sunday with you there and then you folks go on east Sunday night?"
"Really, Daddah?" called Mary Jane happily, "then you could eat in the diner with us and sleep and everything!"
"Wouldn't Uncle Hal be flattered," teased Mr. Merrill, "if he knew that you talked more about the diner than you do about Class Day!"
"Oh, I like Class Day too," declared Mary Jane fingering her new sash, "but I'm glad we have to eat on the train to get there."