“We’d better scoot,” advised Carl Webster, “or some of the new folks may agree with old Mrs. Chatterton, that they ‘never did see such a raft o’ young ones!’”
The imitation of the fidgety little woman’s voice and manner was so complete that the others broke into laughter; but nobody moved.
The car was slowing up, and Polly, turning carelessly to look, gave a little cry of astonishment. Then, to the surprise of the rest, she darted down the steps.
“Ilga!—Miss Price!”—her words stopped short, for Ilga was on her feet—was stepping forward! Her face matched her joyful greeting.
In a minute Patricia was there, asking excited questions and begging the invalid to be careful.
“As if I were not crawling!” laughed Ilga. “Oh, it does seem so splendid to walk! I’ve got lots of messages for you, Polly. Your father came to the station to see me off—just think of that! Wasn’t it lovely of him? And your mother made me a long call yesterday! I wouldn’t let anybody tell you a thing about my coming—I wanted to surprise you! You were surprised, weren’t you?” she queried anxiously.
“I’m so surprised I can’t think,” laughed Polly. “Did you know it when I came away—that you were coming, too?”
“We’d just spoken of it, hadn’t we, Miss Price? It wasn’t a bit sure then. I was wild to come—just wild!” Ilga dropped into the easy chair placed for her, and drew a long, happy breath.
“Aren’t you awfully tired?” questioned Patricia.
“Oh, I guess not!—I don’t know. I only know I’m here and it’s beautiful! Father and mother are coming next week; won’t that be grand?”