CHAPTER XVIII DIANA'S IDEAL
"Come here, Aunt Priscilla," called Veronica at the top of her lungs. It was a joyous call, and Miss Burridge hurried into the dining-room where, a few minutes before, she had left Veronica sweeping, and found her standing still and confronting a boy who stood, hat in hand, while on the floor beside him reposed a new and handsome suitcase.
"Would you know him, Aunt Priscilla?"
Miss Burridge pulled down her spectacles and gazed at the trim figure with the immaculately brushed and parted hair.
"It ain't Bertie Gayne? Why, it is! Where are the other folks? Somebody has been being awful good to you."
How could it be possible that the boy they sent away a few days ago could be the same one who looked at them now with happy eyes and a faint smile.
"They're coming," he answered. "Mr. Blake brought me up—in his wagon, and the others had to wait—for the car, and they were going to take a drive."
Matt Blake here appeared in the open doorway from the piazza, bearing on his back a shining new trunk.