He stalked off with the air of a conqueror.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GOVERNESS.
Down the long flat road bowled the buggy that was bringing the governess from the station, for Father had gone over the night before to meet the train; and now the children, in a state of wild excitement, were grouped together, and wondered. Even Willie let all his eagerness and excitement be seen. Just for the moment the grown-up, careless, sang froid manner that he usually adopted was quite cast aside, and he was a little, eager, natural boy again.
“I’ll bet you anything that she’s lame and’ll wear glasses,” he said, looking round at the others. “There you are now. I’ll bet before I see her.”
“Oh, sure to be!” they agreed. “Oh, dear! I wish she wasn’t coming. If only she wasn’t coming, wouldn’t it be lovely?”
The buggy drew up at the gate, and Mother went forward to meet the newcomer.
“By Jove, she don’t look bad!” cried Willie, as he peeped through the dining-room window.
“Why, she looks real young,” cried Mollie.
“She’s just like a girl,” cried Eva.
“What’d you expect her to be?” asked Willie, “a bloomin’ old man?”