The aunts, the uncle and the minister were in the flower-perfumed drawing-room the next morning when Mr. Walcott's letter came. The mother was so far advanced towards health that the doctor had ordered her away from the city.
"We shall collect our children and go to Lake Hopatcong," wrote Mr. Walcott.
"Lake Hopatcong, indeed!" growled the General. "Cedarville will do Edward's wife more good than that breezy place. I shall telegraph Edward to that effect. When do they start?"
"To-morrow," said Miss Celia, to whom all the General's questions were addressed by design. "The children will take your message to the telegraph office."
"An admirable suggestion!" gallantly responded the General. "The longer I live the greater is my amazement that I have ever dreamed of governing myself without the assistance of the feminine mind." He had forgotten Sarah's frequent "assistance!" "My little girl taught me this," he added, thinking that this explanation completely disguised the odor of the implied compliment to Miss Celia.
"Will you not write your telegram at Celia's davenport?" asked Miss Linn.
"With pleasure, madam," responded the General, rising with unnecessary alacrity. To sit at "Celia's davenport" was a privilege for gods—not men!
While he was writing the twins came in.
"Listen, little girl," said the General. "I am going to beg your father and mother, the children, your good aunts, and Mr. Livermore here, and Gay—the rascal! to go back with us to Cedarville; entreat them for me."
"Oh, you will come, won't you?" said May, by way of entreaty.