In half an hour’s time every one was waiting on the veranda steps for Jim. The large car was puffing impatiently to be on the road, when a gayly bedecked personage emerged from the areaway.
“Oo-oh! It’s Jim!” yelled George, clapping Jack’s back.
“So ’tis!” breathed Martha as if a louder tone would dispel the illusion.
“Is Ah dressed enuff?” asked Jim, beaming.
“I should think so—the best of the lot of us!” admired Jack.
Jim minced over to display his fine feathers to the eyes that comprised his world. He had on a pair of patent leather pumps outgrown by George, a pair of Scotch plaid socks such as were worn by children some years ago. Between the top of the socks and his claret-colored velveteen breeches, his dark-brown bowed legs made a somber break. His starched shirt was too tight, but to obviate this failure, young mammy had pinned a lace jabot in front, where the black cloth Eton opened. A straw alpine hat presented to Jim’s father by Mr. Graham, topped this unusual costume.
Although some of the children felt like giggling, they were too polite, and thought too much of Jim to let him see what they thought of his travelling costume. So, with heart bounding joyously, he climbed in “wid dee comp’ny” in the automobile.
It was a long but delightful drive to Mount Vernon, and on the way there, Mrs. Parke told the children many interesting things in connection with the Washingtons.
“Of course we all know how Mount Vernon came to belong to George Washington, don’t we?”
“We do!” exclaimed George, looking at Martha and his cousins.