"You dear, precious, most wonderful person that ever was," she cried. "Don't even think of what I said! I'm not a bit lonely, and tomorrow I'm going to see Piney and make calls."
CHAPTER XII
GILEAD'S GIRL NEIGHBORS
The breakfast hour at Greenacres was supposed to be seven-thirty, but the girls rose at about six and spent the hour before out in the garden. It was so fascinating, Helen said in her rather reserved way, to be out-of-doors in the early morning. Sometimes when the air was warmer than the ground there would be a morning mist out of which rose clumps of tree tops like little islands.
The following day at five-thirty exactly, Jean wakened drowsily to find Kit standing by her bed, booted and spurred for the fray, as one might say.
"I want you to look at this clock and be a witness that I'm up on time," she said briskly, holding up a bland, nickel-plated clock from the kitchen, a relic of the days of Tekla. "It's perfectly gorgeous outside, Jean. I don't see how you girls can lie and sleep with all nature calling."
"Nature didn't call you before, did she, Kathleen Mavourneen? Go away and let me sleep."
"Well, I get the turtles anyway. I've got them named already." She seated herself blithely on the foot of the bed, "Triptolemus and Prometheus. Like them? I'll call them Trip and Pro for short."
Jean sat up in bed and hurled her pillow at the laughing, fleeing form. From the end of the hall came a last challenge.
"I'm the early bird this morning anyway, Sleepyhead."