"I want my old place, Little Mother," nestled softly upon the arm of the big morris-chair in which Mrs. Harold sat, and rested her head against Mrs. Harold. The other girls had dropped upon chairs, but Mrs. Harold was minded to have her charges pro tem at closer range, so releasing herself from Peggy's circling arm for a moment, she reached for two plump cushions upon the couch near at hand and flopping them down, one at either knee said: "Juno on this one, Rosalie on the other; Marjorie beside me and Natalie, Stella and Nelly with Polly," for Polly had already cuddled down upon her mother's chair.
Before the words had well left her lips, Rosalie had sprung to her coign of vantage crying:
"Oh, Mrs. Harold, you are the dearest chappie I ever knew, and it's already been ten times lovelier than Polly and Peggy ever could describe it."
With a happy little laugh, Natalie promptly seated herself upon the arm of Mrs. Howland's chair, but Juno hesitated a moment, looking doubtfully at the cushion. Juno was a very up-to-date young lady as to raiment. How could she flop down as Rosalie had done while wearing a skirt which measured no more than a yard around at the hem, and geared up in an undergarment which defied all laws of anatomy by precluding the possibility of bending at the waist line? She looked at Mrs. Harold and she looked at the cushion. As her boys would have expressed it "the Little Mother was not slow in catching on." She now laughed outright. Juno did not know whether to resent it or join in the laugh too. There was something about the older woman, however, which aroused in girls a sense of camaraderie rather than reserve, though Juno had never quite been able to analyze it. She smiled, and by some form of contortion of which necessity and long practice had made her a passed mistress, contrived to get herself settled upon the cushion.
"Honey," said Mrs. Harold, patting her shoulder, "if you want to live up to your name you'll discard your coat of mail. Your namesake would have scorned its limitations, and your young figure will be far lovelier and more graceful, to say nothing of the benefit to yourself and future generations, if you heave your armor plate overboard."
It was all said half-jestingly, half-seriously, but Juno gave her head a superior little toss as she answered:
"And go looking like a meal sack? To say nothing of flinging away twenty perfectly good dollars just paid to Madam Malone."
"I'm afraid I'm a very old-fashioned old lady, but I have no notion of letting any Madam Malone, or any other French lady from Erin dictate my fashions, or curtail the development and use of my muscles; I have too much use for them. Do Peggy and Polly resemble 'meal sacks?' Yet no Madam Malone has ever had the handling of their floating-ribs, let me tell you. Watch out, little girl, for a nervous, semi-invalid womanhood is a high price to pay for a pair of corsets at seventeen. There, my lecture is over and now let's talk of earthquakes."
At her aunt's question regarding Peggy and herself resembling "meal sacks," Polly laughed aloud and being in a position to practically demonstrate the freedom which a sensibly full skirt afforded, cried:
"If I couldn't run when I felt like it I'd die. I tell you, when I strike heavy weather I want my rigging ship-shape. I'd hate to scud under bare poles."