“I’ve had a lovely time,” said Diana.
But, like Lady Jane Grey, she was glad to get back to the other house.
CHAPTER XVI
GRANDMOTHER OWEN’S VISIT
There were other great storms before the winter was over, and spring was very late that year, but when it did come it seemed to the children as if the world had never been so beautiful. This was the joy of living in New England. There was no monotony about the seasons. After a winter with banks and banks of snow, and coasting enough to satisfy one’s wildest dreams, the snow vanished; and the brown earth soon became ready for planting; the same miracle began again, of green points poking their heads up to the light.
And if other springs had been delightful, this was so thrilling Peggy wanted to dance and shout with joy—for her own dearly beloved Henrietta Cox was sitting on a dozen eggs, and one day some downy, fluffy chickens were hatched out. Yes, actually, these tiny creatures—living, moving, breathing creatures, all of them Peggy’s very own—were chipping their shells, and making their entrance into this wonderful world. Alice took the chickens more calmly, but she was greatly interested in them in her quiet way.
“Oh, mother, I do hope grandmother likes chickens,” Peggy said, when Mrs. Owen told the children that she had a letter from their grandmother, fixing the time of her annual spring visit.
“Peggy, you never seem to be able to think of but one thing at a time,” said her mother. “What difference will it make whether your grandmother likes chickens? She won’t have to do anything about them.”