“We—never had such good things in our lives,” Meg gasped, amazed.
“Hadn’t you?” said John Holt, with a kind, and even a happy, grin. “Well, pitch in.”
XVII
What a feast it was—what a feast! They were so hungry, they were so happy, they were so rejoiced! And John Holt watched them as if he had never enjoyed himself so much before. He laughed, he made jokes, he handed out good things, he poured out lemonade.
“Let’s drink to the Great Magician!” he said, filling the little glasses he had brought; and he made them drink it standing, as a toast. In all the grounds that day there was no such a party, it was so exhilarated and amazed at itself. Little Ben looked and ate and laughed as if the lemonade had gone to his head.
“Oh, my!” he said, “if mother could see me!”
“We’ll bring her to-morrow,” said John Holt.
“Are you—” faltered Meg, looking at him with wide eyes, “are you coming again to-morrow?”
“Yes,” John Holt answered, “and you are coming with me; and we’ll come every day until you’ve seen it all—if you three will pilot me around.”
“You must be very rich, John Holt,” said Meg. She had found out that it was his whim to want her to call him so.