II.
Breakfast was more than half over, some mornings later, when in came Bob and Irving Bolton. A chorus of “Fie, fie,” greeted them, and Elsie Sterling shook her fingers threateningly as Bob explained, “Pen, don’t be hard on a fellow. Irving and I talked too late, I suppose, last night. At any rate I know I should never have turned up this morning only that he yelled across to me that lunch was most ready. And then he loitered to help me share the blame of our lateness. Hey, old fellow?” and he looked across at Irving as he slid into the vacant place between Elsie and Mrs. Burkhardt.
“You are both rascals, both of you,” growled the General. “Burkhardt and I have been up hours and have planned the finest sort of a day for the rest of you ungrateful ones. Shall we tell them, Burkhardt?”
Before Mr. Burkhardt had a chance to reply, Penelope interposed, “Let me try and guess.”
“All right, Mrs. Gerard, but you’ll have to try twenty questions or some such game or you’ll not hit it. It’s a fine scheme.” And Ned Burkhardt nodded triumphantly while he put a piece of buttered toast on his wife’s plate.
“I’ll guess just once, and without the help of twenty questions either. It’s a picnic.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the General. “You overheard, or somebody told you.”
“Perhaps I did, or perhaps that omnipresent ‘little bird’ chirped it in my ear. But, at any rate, it’s a fine idea. What say the rest of you?”
“Just the thing. Fine,” was the reply.