"It was as baggy at the knees as if you'd done nothing all winter but pray in it!" mother whimpered in a frightened voice. "I've—I've burned it up!"
For a moment I was silent.
"But what shall I tramp in?" I finally asked severely. "What can I walk out the Waverley Pike in?"
Then mother took fresh courage.
"You're not going to walk!" she answered triumphantly. "You're going to ride—in your very—own—electric—coupé! Here's the catalogue."
She scrambled about for a book on a table near at hand—and I began to see daylight.
"Oh, a player-piano, and an electric coupé—all in one day! I see! My fairy godmother—who was old Aunt Patricia, and she looked exactly like one—has turned the pumpkin into a gold coach! You two plotters have been putting your heads together to have me get rich quick and gracefully!"
"We understand that this stroke of fortune is going to make a great change in your life, Grace," Guilford said gravely. He was always grave—and old. The only way you could tell his demeanor from that of a septuagenarian was that he didn't drag his feet as he walked.
"'Stroke of fortune?'" I repeated.
"The Coburn—" mother began.