“Wait till he comes in,” answered Cricket, instantly. Having made her plans, she proposed to fight it out on that line, if it took all summer.
“Suppose he doesn’t get home till evening? We would be afraid to go home alone then.”
“He could get a carriage, and send us home,” said Cricket, magnificently.
Eunice gasped. The children seemed to have changed places. Eunice was generally the one who had the practical resources.
The maid opened the door. “Yes, he was in,” was the welcome answer to the eager question. “But it’s afraid I am that he can’t see any one this afternoon. He’s particular engaged.”
Dismay filled the children’s hearts. So near to their goal and not to be able to reach it!
“Oh, please tell him we must see him!” cried Cricket, imploringly. “It’s dreadfully, awfully important, and we’ve come a long way; but we’ll wait as long as he likes, till he’s quite through, but we can’t go away without seeing him.”
The maid hesitated. Her orders were strict, but this was plainly something out of the ordinary course. “I don’t know if I can tell him,” she hesitated.
“We won’t take but just a few minutes. We’ll be very quick, and something must be done, and there’s nobody else to do it. Please ask him to let us come in, and we’ll talk very fast, and tell him all about Donald and the others, and—and I can’t go away without seeing him!”
Cricket’s earnest voice grew almost to a wail as she ended, clasping her hands entreatingly.