“You will have to be on your best behavior when you go to see Kathie,” warned Jerry. “The eyes of the faculty will be upon you.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Lucy fixed Jerry with a withering glance. “I know how to behave. I’m going into the house to see Miss Remson.” She reached for her suitcase and leather bag with an air of lofty disdain.
Girl-fashion, the group had reached the floor of the veranda only to gather about Leila and ask questions. Following Lucy’s example, they now repossessed themselves of their luggage and entered the house to pay their respects to Miss Remson.
She had already heard the babel of voices rising from the veranda. Recognizing Muriel’s peculiarly clear, high-pitched tones, she had delightedly hurried to the door. She met the arrivals on the threshold and gave them a hearty welcome.
“Go up to your rooms, girls, and leave your luggage,” she directed, after a cordial hand-shaking all around, “then come down to the dining room. It is only four o’clock. You need something to eat. I will have tea ready for you. If I remember rightly, you Sanford girls have always arrived on a later train.”
“Yes; the five-fifty,” Jerry informed. “The train schedule has been changed. Our train left Sanford at twenty minutes past seven this morning. It was the only one we could take that would bring us here before dark.”
“You’re a dear, Miss Remson,” lauded Muriel. “The very thought of tea is inspiring. I’ve been hungry for the last hour.”
“So have I,” echoed Jerry. “No reason for it, either. We had luncheon on the train.”
“Yes, but at what time?” reminded Muriel. “Precisely twelve. Four hours’ ride after that on a bumpety-bumpety train is sufficient cause for a quick return of appetite.”
“Quite true, my dear Miss Harding,” allowed Jerry, favoring Muriel with a patronizing smile.