"We came around this way home," announced Tilly. "You said you wanted us."
"Want you! Well, I reckon I do," cried Genevieve, springing to her feet. "Come up here this minute! Now say it—say it again—that thing you did at the station. I want Aunt Julia to hear it—and Miss Jane."
The change in Genevieve's voice and manner was unconscious, but it was very evident. No one noticed it apparently, however, but Tilly; and she only puckered her lips into an odd little smile as she formed in line with the other girls: Tilly was not without some experience herself with Miss Jane and her ways.
"Now, one, two, three, ready!" counted Cordelia, sternly, her face a tragedy of responsibility lest this final triumph of their labors should be anything less than the glorious success the occasion demanded.
Once more five eager, girlish countenances faced squarely front. Once more five fresh young voices chanted with lusty precision:
"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!
Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!
GENEVIEVE!"
It was finished. Cordelia, with the expression of one from whom the weight of nations has been lifted, drew a happy sigh, and looked confidently about for her reward. Almost at once, however, her face clouded perplexedly.
Genevieve was dancing lightly on her toes and clapping her hands softly. Mrs. Kennedy was laughing with her handkerchief to her lips. But Miss Jane Chick—Miss Jane Chick was sitting erect, her eyes plainly horrified, her hands clapped to her ears.
"Children, children!" she gasped, as soon as there was a chance for her voice to be heard. "You don't mean to say that you did that—at a public railroad station!"
Cordelia looked distressed. The other girls bit their lips and lifted their chins just a little: they did not like to be called "children."