"It's very kind of you all to care, and if you are sure she would not be annoyed"—
"Annoyed? What an idea! Why, aren't you both daughters of the King?
Doesn't that make you sisters? I know you will not break your word, Miss
Olmstead."
"No, she won't," said Molly briskly; "when she says she is going to send us to bed early, she always does it."
"Molly!" cried Sara, half-laughing, half-angry, "I think it must be your bedtime, now."
"There! That's just because you want to talk to Mr. Glendenning," whined the child. "Last night, 'cause you was lonesome, you let us sit up till nine. I don't think it's fair!"
"Well," laughed the young man, to cover Sara's embarrassment, for she had blushed like a rose at this, "I did have something in my pocket; however, as it's only for early-go-to-beders, I don't believe I'll produce it to-night."
Molly was on her feet in an instant.
"I always go to bed early, Mr. Glendenning, only when Sara wants me to sit up, like last night: you don't blame me for that, do you?"
"Indeed I don't; and seeing you're so anxious to go to-night, I think I will give it to you, after all," slowly drawing a package from the pocket of his great-coat, which was thrown over a neighboring chair. Molly grasped it, managing to get out a hurried "Thank you," under Sara's eyes; pulled at the string, whirled around a few times in search for a knife, though Morton was holding his out all the time, and finally, getting to the box, snatched at its cover—and dropped the whole thing, the bonbons inside rolling all over the floor.
"Oh, oh, oh! Sara," she screamed, dancing up and down, "they're running away! What are they?"