“Isn't he a perfect darling!” cried the enraptured quintette.
“I think,” said demure Patty Weld, “that before we permit ourselves to feel too happy, we had better consult our 'powers that be,' and see if we can accept Bell's invitation.”
“I refuse to hear 'No' from one of you,” Bell answered, firmly. “I have thought it all over; spent the night upon it, in fact. You, Alice, and Josie Fenton, are too far from home to go there anyway, so I shall lead you off as helpless captives. Your mother is in town, Lilia, so that you can ask her immediately, and hear the worst; you and Edith, Patty, are only a half-day's journey away, and can find out easily. I know you can get permission, for it's going to be perfectly proper and safe. Grandmamma lives nearby, the Sawyer spinsters are the village duennas, and Uncle Harry can protect us from any rampaging burglars and midnight marauders that may happen in to pay their respects.”
So the “Jolly Six,” as they were called by their schoolmates, separated, to build many castles in the air. Bell, it was decided, was to go on to her country home in advance, and, with the help of a neighboring farmer's daughter, prepare and provision the house for an unusual siege.
The girls had determined to have no servant, and their many ingenious plans for managing and dividing the work were the source of great amusement to the teachers, some of whom had been admitted to their confidence. Josie Fenton and Bell were to do the cooking, Jo claiming the sternly practical department best suited to her—meat, vegetables, and bread—while Bell was to concoct puddings, cakes, and the various little indigestible dainties toward which schoolgirl hearts are so tender. Alice Forsaith, the oldest of the party and the beauty of the school, with Edith Lambert, as an aid, was to manage the making of the beds, tidying of rooms, and setting of tables, while Lilia Porter and Patty Weld, with noble heroism and selfsacrifice, offered to shoulder that cross of an old-fashioned girl's life—the washing and wiping of dishes.
On a Wednesday morning the two maiden ladies living nearly opposite the Winship cottage were transfixed with wonder by the appearance of Bell, who asked for the house-key left in safe keeping with them.
“Du tell, Isabel!—I didn't expect to see you this mornin',—air your folks comin' home or hev you been turned out o' school?” asked Miss Miranda.
“Oh, no,” laughed Bell; “I'm going to housekeeping myself!”
“Good land! You haven't run off and got married, have you?” cried Miss Jane.
“Not quite so bad as that; but I'm going to bring five of my schoolmates over to-morrow, and we intend to stay here two weeks all alone, as housekeepers and householders.”