“If you feel it like that, poor Maggie,” said Merry, “I will keep it as my own secret.”
“Then I have nothing further to say.” Maggie sprang to her feet. “There are the boys running to meet us,” she said. “I know they’ll want my help in preparing the fire for the gipsy-kettle.”
“And I will join the others. There’s Susan Heathfield; she is all alone,” said Merry. “But one moment first, please, Maggie. Are you going to make Molly and Isabel bind themselves by the same promise?”
“Dear me, no!” said Maggie. “They will naturally be my friends without any effort; but you are the one I want, for you are the one I truly love.”
“Hallo! there you are,” called Andrew’s voice, “hobnobbing, as usual, with Merry Cardew.”
“I say, Merry,” cried Jack, “it is unfair of you to take our Maggie away on her last day.”
The two boys now rushed up.
“I am going to cry bottles-full to-morrow,” said Andrew; “and, although I am a boy, about to be a man, I’m not a bit ashamed of it.”
“I’ll beat you at that,” said Jackdaw, “for I’ll cry basins-full.”
“Dear me, boys, how horrid of you!” said Maggie. “What on earth good will crying do to me? And you’ll both be so horribly limp and damp after it.”