“Here comes Roly Poly McLane,” cried Percy, laughing, as he peered through a side light of the front door. “She’s as jolly and fat as a clown elephant in the circus.”
“Percy, my love,” remonstrated his mother, which slight show of disapproval was about as near as she ever got in her life to scolding him.
The boys raced down the hall to help Rosomond McLane out of the high trap in which she had driven over to Pine Lodge from her home a few miles away.
“Wait, Roly Poly, until Percy gets a derrick. It’s the only safe way to unload heavy bales,” cried Merry.
“Roly Poly,” said Percy, bowing politely, “these three noble friends have volunteered with me to help you get out. I offered to do it alone, but mother was afraid my young life would be crushed out of me, if anything should happen, you know, and——”
“Percival, my darling!” cried Mrs. St. Clair.
“Help me, indeed,” exclaimed Rosomond, with a jolly laugh that always started an echo of other jolly laughs. “Get out of my way all of you,” and she gave a flying leap from the trap and bounced as she hit the ground like a rubber ball.
“My dear Rosomond,” cried the widow, running down the steps to meet her, “don’t take any notice of these foolish boys. You wouldn’t seem the same dear, delightful Rosomond if you weighed a pound less.”
“Oh, I don’t mind them, Mrs. St. Clair. I’m used to it, you know. Father always calls me ‘Baby Elephant’ and ‘Jumbo,’ and the girls at school call me ‘Roly Poly,’ and Uncle Jim calls me ‘Fatty.’”
Several more boys appeared just then and the company followed Mrs. St. Clair into what she called the sitting room, a gay apartment with chintz curtains at the windows and chintz covered cushions in the deep wicker chairs. Here they had tea and chocolate and hot-buttered toast.