“Oh, thank you, dear Uncle Compton,” and curtsied deeper than on any former occasion.
Bobby next arose, and with a smile not unlike Pearl’s said:
“Oh, thank you, dear Uncle Compton,” and duplicated the curtsy of Pearl.
Francis and Peggy, wondering what the laughter from the grown folks was all about, each in turn made the selfsame speech in the selfsame way.
Mr. Compton in struggling to keep a straight face while witnessing the new “Imitation” feared for the moment that he was on the point of an apoplectic seizure.
“Suppose we say grace,” he suggested.
Within a few minutes, the table was cleared, everybody taking a hand. The next thing was the entertainment.
“Look here, Mrs. Sansone,” whispered Compton. “Do you and the other women take the children into Bobby’s room and arrange a program. Besides Peggy’s violin playing and Pearl’s dancing, we want Bobby and Francis to do some little stunt, too. Get them ready in fifteen minutes at the least. Meantime, I want to have a word with Mrs. Vernon.”
Presently the two were alone, standing beneath the picture of the guardian angel.
“Barbara, you remember your remarking this morning that you had something to say to me?”