“You big goose!” said she; “don’t you know it’s Sat’day? There be n’t no school.”
“Wha’ ’s ’at?” cried Auntie, striving to cover her humiliation at being caught in such a foolish error. “Is dat a proper speechifyin’ to say dere ‘be n’t no school’? Where’s yo’ grammeh, Miss Sue? Don’ let me heah yo’ say ‘be n’t’ agin. Say, ‘dere hain’t no school.’”
Phœbe led the laughter this time; but, when it had subsided she said to the indignant servant:
“She certainly does use awfully bad grammar, Auntie, and you’re quite right to correct her. But, I’m positive that something’s burning in the kitchen.”
Aunt Hyacinth made a dive for the door and let in a strong odor of charred cakes as she passed through.
Phœbe got up from her place and walked to the latticed window. Something attracted her attention outside, for she gave a little start. Phil joined her just then and slipped his arm around her slim waist. They were twins, these two, and the eldest of the five Darings.
“What is it, dear?” he asked.
“The people are moving in, across the way,” she said, rather sadly. “I didn’t know they were expected so soon.”
There was a rush for the window, at this, but five heads were too many for the space and the outlook was hindered by a mass of climbing ivy. Don made for the porch, and the others followed him into the fresh morning air.
For a while they all gazed silently at the great mansion across the way, set in the midst of an emerald lawn. Men were carrying trunks in at the side entrance. Before the door stood a carriage from which a woman, a man, a girl and a boy had alighted. They were gazing around them with some curiosity, for the scene was all new to them.