“Dear me; it’s the Saunders,” said Cricket, peeping out, “and there’s Irene Saunders. Gracious, Eunice, mamma’ll be looking for us in a minute! Let’s skip round to the side-door as soon as they’re in the house.”
But to their dismay, they heard the ladies say to the maid,—
“It’s so charming on this lovely piazza, that we will wait here for Mrs. Ward.”
The piazza was a delightful place, twelve feet broad, and supplied with lounging chairs of every description, a table, magazines, hammocks, cushions and rugs, and sufficiently shaded by vines to soften the sunlight. But the arbour where the children were was in full view.
“Shall we go, anyway?” asked Eunice, but before they could get out, Dr. Ward came round the house, and greeted the guests on the piazza.
“Now, what shall we do?” said Cricket, in despair. “If papa sees us he’ll certainly think we are tramps, too. I heard him tell Thomas, the other day, that tramps were getting so thick, he might have to set the dog on some of them. I don’t think I could stand any more knocking round.”
“Well, let’s wait,” said Eunice, for there seemed to be nothing else to do.
Just then Mrs. Ward appeared, and after a moment there were inquiries for Cricket and Eunice. The children were near enough to hear every word.
“I want my sister to see your little flock, Mrs. Ward,” said Mrs. Saunders, graciously, “for you know we all think they are the show-children of the neighbourhood.” Mrs. Saunders was a woman of much means and little cultivation, who had lately taken a summer home in Wellsboro.
Accordingly the twins and Kenneth were soon produced, for they were fresh from the nurse’s hands.