And “Pickering!” screamed Polly. And they took hold of hands and spun round and round the den.
“Oh, dear, we're knocking off your beautiful program,” cried Polly, pausing in dismay.
“It hasn't hurt it any—our mad whirl hasn't,” said Jasper, picking up the long program where it had slipped off the table to the floor. “Polly, you can't think how I wanted Pick to be chosen. It will do him so much good.”
“And only think, if I hadn't chosen him out of that bowl!” cried Polly, in dismay at the very thought.
“Well, you did, Polly, so it's all right,” said Jasper. “Now everything is fixed, and it's going to be the finest affair that ever was,” he added enthusiastically; “and the best of it is—I can't help it, Polly—that Mrs. Chatterton isn't to come back till next week,” he brought up in great satisfaction.
Mrs. Chatterton had gone to New York for some weeks, but was to return to finish her visit at “Cousin Horatio's.”
“And I am so glad too,” confessed Polly, but feeling as if she oughtn't to say it. “And isn't everything just beautiful, Jasper!”
“I should think it was!” cried Jasper jubilantly. “Just as perfect as can be, Polly.”
And the next afternoon, when the last preparations for the grand entertainment were made, and everybody was rushing off to dress for dinner, a carriage drove up the winding driveway. There were big trunks on the rack, and two people inside.
Joel, racing along the hall with Tom at his heels, took one look. “Oh, whickets!” he ejaculated, stopping short, to bring his feet down with a thud.