FINNAN HADDIE IN A GARDEN
As Molly’s excitement seemed pleasurable they did not tarry for its explanation but promptly separated; the ladies returning to their hotel to order their carriage and repack the few articles they had taken from their valises.
The Judge set off down the street, still examining his mail and bidding the girls to follow; and, as they did so, Molly exclaimed:
“It’s just too lovely for words! Monty’s coming, Monty’s coming!”
Dorothy almost lost sight of the Judge as he turned a corner into a side street, so long she paused and so disgusted she felt.
“That boy! What’s he coming for? I hope not to be with us!”
“Exactly what he is, then! We laid a little plan that last morning when we started. His mother was in Newburgh, you know, and hadn’t decided where she would pass her vacation. So I suppose he went right to her and asked and she always does just what he wants. He writes that she’d never visited Nova Scotia nor Canada and was simply delighted to come. She wouldn’t force their society upon our party, oh! no, not for anything! But she’ll manage to take the first steamer out from Boston and will go straight to Digby. We’ll meet there; and if Aunt Lucretia doesn’t think a Stark is good company for a Breckenridge, I’ll know the reason why. Oh! fine, fine.”
“Oh! nuisance, nuisance! But come on! Your father is ever so far ahead and we’ll have to hurry to catch up.”
They set off upon a run and for a few minutes neither spoke. Molly was disappointed that Dolly didn’t “enthuse,” and the latter felt that a boy—such a boy—would effectually spoil the good times she and her mate might have had together, alone. Finally, Molly asked:
“Who was your letter from?”