“Oh, Lucy, don’t keep us waiting,” begged Marjorie. “Is she coming to Burleigh?”
“Not so fast,” cried Lucile. “Give me half a chance. I haven’t heard from our guardian personally, but Phil got a letter from Jim the other day and he said——” Lucile paused dramatically.
“Yes, yes; go on,” they demanded, excitedly.
“And she said that Mr. and Mrs. Wescott were going to visit Burleigh very soon.”
“Soon,” cried Margaret. “That sounds good. Always before it’s been something that was going to happen in the dim future.”
“Did she say any special time, Lucy?” Ruth broke in, impatiently.
“No, there was nothing definite about it,” said Lucile, “but I expect to hear from her almost any minute now.”
“There comes the postman—perhaps he will bring you a letter,” suggested Evelyn.
“Oh, what’s the use of raising our hopes?” admonished Jessie. “There’s just about one chance in a thousand that the letter will come when we want it.”
“All we can do is wait,” said Lucile, philosophically. “In the meantime, suppose we all suggest something that 26 we can do to welcome her—make her feel how truly glad we are to see her. Somebody suggest something.”