The Doctor’s eyebrows lifted.
“Marmalade?” he queried, as he took Polly by one arm, and guided her deftly through the crowd, the rest following. “I have to eat it, to keep in their good graces.”
“You shall not have another jar after that,” Polly cried, severely. “Wait till I tell Aunty Welcome. Where’s Tom with our carry-all? Oh, I see him, over under the horse chestnuts at Aunt Cynthy’s.”
“Aunt Cynthy, Polly?” asked the Admiral. “Who is the lady?”
“She’s the mother of the roses,” Polly told him, mysteriously, as she raised her bouquet for him to catch a whiff of its fragrance. “Tom’s aunt. And she’s going back to the Orienta with us to watch the races. Now, the carry-all won’t carry all, at all. It will just about carry seven people.”
“I have a conveyance here some place,” spoke up the Doctor. “At least I did have. I can take two with me. Wait just one minute.”
He disappeared around the corner, and came back driving a trim top carriage.
“It’s the hotel keeper’s,” he told them. “I didn’t know these children were coming to meet you in state, so I plotted to carry you off myself. Now, I think I had best take Mrs. Bardwell with me, and the thinnest one of the girls.”
“Thinnest!” exclaimed Sue. “Thinnest! You won’t find any thin people in this club after six weeks on Lost Island. Crullers, won’t you please ride with the Doctor, just as a matter of revenge?”
And Crullers, whose one strong point was her weight, agreed willingly to share the seat with the doctor and Mrs. Bardwell.