“Well, children, what is your pleasure?” inquired Marjorie. “Shall we stay here, or sit on the veranda, or establish ourselves in the pagoda, or what?”
“The pagoda for mine,” decided Jerry, “provided the rest of you are of the same mind. We can sit in a circle and tell sad stories of the deaths of kings, etc. All those in favor of this lively pastime please say ‘Aye;’ contrary, keep quiet.”
“Aye,” came the willing response.
“What for is ‘Aye?’” calmly demanded Charlie Stevens of Mary, to whom he had immediately attached himself.
“Oh, it means that Charlie can go out with us to the summer house and have a nice time, if he would like to,” explained Mary.
“Charlie don’t want to,” was the frank response. “Where’s Delia?” Fond recollections of frequent visits to the Dean kitchen, invariably productive of toothsome gifts, lurked in the foreground. “Delia likes to see me.”
“You mean you like to see Delia,” laughed Constance. “But you know you came to see Mrs. Dean and Marjorie and Mary,” she reminded.
“I’ve seen them. Now I have to see Delia.”
“Delia wins the day,” smiled Mrs. Dean. “You are all jilted. Very well, Charlie, you and I will pay our respects to Delia. Come on.” She stretched forth an inviting hand to the little boy, who accepted it joyfully, and trotted off with her to invade good-natured Delia’s domain.
“As long as our one cavalier has been lured away from us by Delia we might as well try to console one another,” laughed Marjorie.