“I don’t know whether it is or not,” declared Eileen, dubiously. “I don’t know how we’re all going to face Uncle, knowing that he knows what he knows, and we’ll all have to look so innocent, and pretend things—oh, it will be awful!——”
“Oh, yes!” agreed Eva, “I believe my face will burn off with shame.”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” declared Mollie, stoutly, although she, too, was quailing at the thought of the ordeal.
“Oh, but the pretence!” said Eva.
“Well, it’s for a good cause,” answered Mollie. “Why, look how bright Father and Mother have been since they got that letter. Oh, whatever we do, we must never let them know! We’ll just have to act again, and pretend for all we’re worth, when Uncle comes.”
“Oh, we’ll face it when the time comes—never fear!” said Eileen; “but the thought of it is worse than—worse than——”
“Castor oil,” said Doris.
“Yes, castor oil,” agreed Eileen, as she couldn’t think of anything worse at the moment.
The great day arrived at last, and they were nearly sick with excitement. Everything was in readiness. The pet lambs all had new red strings round their necks, the stick horses had been “fed” early, and were tied up with narrow strips of bright blue print; the porter-bottle “dog” had a new ribbon, and Rose was decked out in her best finery; so nothing remained to be done but to wait.
Father had borrowed the station buggy and driven to Bragan Junction to meet him, and they knew they would soon hear the “top-top-top” of the horses’ hoofs on the creek bridge.