“That’s the very least number I could do with,” she said, as she laid down her pen; “there are ten of us, and I know every one, even Freddie, will demand a separate copy, so that only leaves two for outsiders.”
A loud noise of pummelling on the door was heard, so they went out.
Somebody said the family had been so overwhelmed with surprise, it had not, it feared, paid due honours to its authoress, and was anxious to make amends. Whereupon Weenie planted on Dolly’s head a [305] ]wreath hastily made of nasturtiums and honeysuckle; and Clif and Ted, with a cushion on their crossed hands, [carried her] for an extremely jolting and triumphal march round the drive and down the orchard and back.
They dropped her in a heap on the lawn.
[Carried her for a triumphal march.]
“Here’s hoping you won’t think it necessary to bring a book out every day,” Clif said, and mopped his streaming forehead.
“I want to know, as soon as any one can spare me any attention, what the book is about,” said Mrs. Wise, packing up the tea-things that were on the grass.
[306]
]“Oh, it’s not much,” said Dolly candidly.
“I suppose that means it is one of your children’s stories,” said Mrs. Wise.