“Oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Wilkinson. “Well, if it will make you happy, that’s all I care about—Now, tell me about your troop, the new one, I mean.”
Marjorie was willing to talk about it for a while, but soon she pronounced herself weary of it, and went off to take a nap.
It was not until the next day that Mrs. Wilkinson began to realize how very tired her daughter was and she did not disturb her until long after noon. Then she suggested that she see no callers.
“Only—John!” whispered Marjorie.
“Why, Marjorie!” exclaimed Mrs. Wilkinson, her eyes brightening. “You want him?”
“Yes, it’s funny—but—I sort of rest better when he’s around. I guess that’s silly——”
“Not a bit, dear! He sent you some flowers this morning, but I didn’t bring them up because you were asleep. Do you want them now?”
“Yes, indeed! What are they?”
“I knew they would be. He knows they’re my favorite.”