“And mine is Maggie,” piped his sister.
“Maybe so,” went on Percy. “That’s not the disguise. You’ve been wearing the cloak of poverty, when you are really as rich as cream, the pair of you, with an old grandfather in England who has a title and castles and much pleasing property; and every now and then the old grandpapa sends for you and you have to give up Gypsying and fly.”
“And he’s your boss who’s always interfering with your vacations?” interrupted Billie.
“And you just pretend to be poor for the novelty of the experience?” asked Nancy. “I wish I could pretend to be rich in the same way.”
“But we are Gypsies at heart,” put in Maggie, “and I do love to scrub and cook. Grandpapa’s is so dull.”
“And where does Grandpapa think you are now? Not in a traveling van, I’ll wager,” said Miss Campbell.
Maggie laughed.
“We are supposed to be visiting Aunt Lucretia. She’s our American aunt, Papa’s sister, who brought us up, before Grandpapa decided to recognize us. You see Mamma would marry Papa, who was poor then, and came from Maine. He looked just like Richard and I don’t blame her. Grandpapa lets us come every summer to visit Aunt Lucretia now.”
“And where does Aunt Lucretia think you are?”
“Why, visiting Amy Swinnerton.”