“Oh, dear!” she thought. “I am afraid Katherine will say just the wrong thing, and before we know it Peter will insist upon keeping the dog in the house, and having the boy at the supper-table. Where did he pick them up?”
But Peter, whatever may have been his first impulse, decided that, after all, it would be the wiser course to repair to the barn, and here Victoria found him with his new friend, when she and Sophy followed with the remedies.
The dog was, without doubt, very much hurt; but he seemed to appreciate all that was being done for him, and he looked lovingly at Peter as he bathed his wounds and bound up his leg.
“How would you like to have your supper out here, Peter?” said Victoria, who had been pondering the situation. “Then you could stay near the dog and see that he is all right.”
“Well,” said Peter, slowly, “I don’t know but it would be a good plan. What do you say, Carney?”
But Carney was too bashful to speak.
It was a happy solution of the difficulty, and Victoria and Sophy hurried back to the house, and had soon packed a basket for the picnic in the barn. Honor’s biscuits, made so early in the afternoon, had risen and fallen again long since, and were now little lumps of hard and sodden dough; but the sisters thought that the boys would doubtless enjoy them, and they bestowed them with a generous hand.
“We can eat crackers ourselves,” said Katherine. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Honor, but—but—do look in the bread-box to-morrow, please!”
Honor had seated herself in her place at the head of the table. The old silver service and the delicate cups and saucers gleamed in the light which fell from the candles. The table was covered with a cloth of the finest damask, a silver jardinière of ferns ornamented the centre, and at the four corners stood tall silver candlesticks of massive design. No one would ever have dreamed that the family who were to gather about this table had not all the money they needed.
The eldest sister leaned back in her chair and sighed.