“Is mother with you?” said the lady, [p20] Mrs. Gowan by name, somewhat anxiously, “and your father?”
“No,” said Pauline sadly, “they’ve gone to New Zealand,—mamma got quite ill with nursing us, and daddie got it too, and he wouldn’t come up here.”
Muffie giggled. “People’s laugh ’cause daddie’s got it,” she volunteered.
“But in New Zealand, you see,” explained Pauline gravely, “no one will know him.”
Mrs. Gowan smiled a little—as others had done. For indeed the thought of a dignified Judge drawing in his breath and whooping on the bench like a frightened child was not without its humorous side.
The poor Judge had become quite sensitive about the ridiculous complaint his children had given to him, and after struggling with it pettishly for some time, and the vacation coming along, he had finally proposed the New Zealand trip to his wife, the children being sent to complete their cure to the summer home he had long since built on the mountains.
“Well,” said Mrs. Gowan, “I am really sorry, dears, for we could have had such fun, all of us up here at the same time, couldn’t we? But you won’t speak to Effie and Florence if you meet them anywhere, will you? Even if they try to speak to you? I have such a dread of whooping cough.”
[p21]
“Paul told you straight away off that we were contagerous,” said Lynn, a little hurt that after her sister’s magnificent honesty such admonition should be deemed necessary.
“Yes, I know, dear,” said the lady, “and indeed I thank Pauline very much for being so considerate. It is Effie and Florence I am thinking of; they are so thoughtless, I am afraid they will try to come over to you.”
“You’d better not let them come down to this part of the road then,” said Pauline sagely.