It was while they were so occupied that a girl stepped out upon the side veranda. She hesitated an instant, poising lightly in surprise at their rather unusual attitudes, and biting her lips to keep from laughing outright. Then coming down into the garden, she asked:
"Is the parade in sight yet?"
Turning, they rushed at her.
"Marian! When did you get home? How did you get in without our seeing you?"
Her parasol fell to the ground before their onslaught of affectionate greetings, as they held her off, only to draw her close to them.
"Why," she laughed, somewhat out of breath, "the front door was open—as usual; so I came on through—as usual—looking for you!"
"When did you get home?" they insisted. "Is it really you?"
"You little dears," she cried. "Oh, but it's good to see you!"
"But when did you come?"
"Last night!"