"Oh, no, I'll keep on my hat till I go to bed, so it doesn't matter. I'd rather you'd finish my packing if you don't mind. There's nothing more to go in except some collars and my bedroom slippers and that red wrapper hanging behind the door in the closet."
"Are you going to take any medicine?"
"Only that bottle of camphor and some mustard plasters. Yes, you'd better put in the brandy flask and the aromatic ammonia. You can never tell when you will need them. Now, my darlings, mother is going away and you must keep well and be as good as gold until she comes back."
To the amazement of Mrs. Pendleton (who reflected that you really never knew what to expect of children), this appeal produced an immediate and extraordinary result. Lucy, who had been fidgeting about and trying to help with the packing, became suddenly solemn and dignified, while an ennobling excitement mounted to Harry's face. Never particularly obedient before, they became, as soon as the words were uttered, as amenable as angels. Even Jenny stopped feeding long enough to raise herself and pat her mother's cheek with ten caressing, milky fingers.
"Mother's going away," said Lucy in a solemn voice, and a hush fell on the three of them.
"And grandma's coming here to live," added Harry after the silence had grown so depressing that Virginia had started to cry.
"Not to live, precious," corrected Mrs. Pendleton quickly. "Just to spend two days with you. Mother will be home in two days."
"Mother will be home in two days," repeated Lucy. "May I stay away from school while you're away, mamma?"
"And may I stop learning my letters?" asked Harry.
"No, darlings, you must do just as if I were here. Grandma will take care of you. Now promise me that you will be good."