“That’s goody-goody people!” said Jack wrathfully, not in a frame of mind to admire virtue utterly beyond his reach.
“They’re better than baddy-baddy people at least,” said Gwen. “If Jan must go, let’s not make it worse.—When would she have to start, papa?”
“Her father doesn’t say. I think we are entitled to a little time in which to get used to the amputation,” said Mr. Graham. “I won’t let her go under a week.”
“Then we’ll make it a lively week,” said Gwen with a quiver in her voice indicating no especial liveliness in the speaker. Mrs. Graham pushed back her chair, and the children all rose; there had been no more thought of breakfast since the dreadful tidings had fallen upon them that they were to lose Jan.
It was the week of the Easter holidays, so there was nothing to prevent her cousins from devoting themselves to Jan for the short time remaining.
The three girls retired to Jan’s room to have a cry and feel better, though that was not consciously the object of the tears. Tommy Traddles came stretching and purring to meet them, and Jan caught him to her heart.
“O my poor, dear Tommy Traddles!” she cried. “He has got so handsome, and strong, and loving! And he does play hide and seek so beautifully with me. Will you promise to take just as good care of him as I do, Gwen and Gladys? And will you swear—honest, true, black and blue—not to let him get left behind to starve in the streets when you go to the country?”
“Now, Jan, if you suppose we’d be the sort of people to turn an animal out! Of all the mean, selfish things to do! It makes me furious to see the poor creatures who are used to being petted wandering around frightened, sick, and hungry! I don’t see why you ask us such a thing as that! We don’t have to swear it,” said Gwen, with genuine indignation.
“Well, I beg your pardon. I know you wouldn’t, but so many people are careless,” said Jan contritely. “Syd will look after Drom. And now I’m going to pack.”
“If you touch one thing I’ll go crazy!” exclaimed Gladys energetically. “I could not stand it! I won’t believe you’re going. Get on your things and come down to your stuffy historical graves, but don’t you pack! You haven’t the least, dimmest idea of how Gwen and I feel—you don’t care one bit for leaving us!”