“Say, that came in a hurry, didn’t it?” remarked Marjorie. “Oh, I’m so glad.” 32
“Who isn’t?” Jessie rejoined. “The rain would have made everything so gloomy, just when we wanted it brightest.”
“It seems as if the sun knew Miss Howland was coming and just couldn’t help shining,” said Margaret, with a face so like the sun itself in its radiant brightness that Marjorie, who was near her, threw her arm about the slight form, saying, lovingly, “Even if the sun hadn’t come out, Margaret, I don’t think we’d have missed it much with you around.”
“Don’t you remember what Miss Howland always used to say about there being a great deal more credit in being happy and sunny on a gloomy day than a bright one?” put in Eleanor.
“Yes; but, though I’ve tried very hard to look cheerful when the rain has spoiled all my chances for a good time, I’m very much afraid I don’t often succeed,” said Evelyn, with a rueful smile.
“I can’t imagine you in the doleful dumps for very long, Evelyn,” said Ruth. “I’ve never seen you anything but happy yet.”
“Oh, you don’t have to live with her, Ruth,” said Jessie. “If you did, and I’m glad for your sake you don’t, you would soon change your opinion.”
“I’d like to know what you know about it, anyway,” Evelyn retorted, gaily. “You’ve never lived with me—that I know of, at any rate.”
“To change the subject,” Marjorie broke in, “there’s Lucile waving to us to hurry. I guess she has something to tell us before she goes to the station.”
They broke into a run and in another minute had surrounded Lucile.