As the time approached for them to go, the talk of leaving the parrot behind became more serious. It was already apparent that the family would be overburdened with hand baggage and Pete would be difficult to care for on the train.
Mrs. Morton’s globes of wax flowers and fruit were proving a complication. It seemed impossible to pack the fragile handiwork and the delicate glass shades so there would be any hope of their reaching Kansas safely.
“Confound them,” exclaimed Frank in desperation, “I wish mother could be persuaded to part with the old things. They always did make the cold chills go up and down my back. I guess I have been cautioned 499 times by actual count not to run into those globes and not to joggle the tables they were on.”
“But, Frank, the wax flowers and fruit are the very apple of your mother’s eye. They were the height of fashion ten years ago. She spent days and days making and coloring them—they really are exquisitely done,” protested Marian.
“But they are such a nuisance! Just picture us lugging Jane’s parrot and those two huge globes on the train in addition to the satchels and lunch boxes. We’ll look like a traveling circus.”
Marian laughed at his wry face.
“It is awful—but think of your mother. I’ll carry one of the globes myself.”
“Not much you won’t. You will be tired enough with the journey without that burden.”
“I’ll carry the fruit,” volunteered Ernest. “I expect the boys’ll laugh but mother feels bad enough about going away anyhow.”
“Yes, poor mother is giving up a good deal to go with us. We must always remember that.”