And there by that cheery hearth sat Mrs. Scollard, safe and well! Polly and Penny beside her, plump as pigeons and hardily browned. And Dundee in holiday array of a big blue bow, and Jeunesse Dorée, by this time thoroughly reconciled to the collie, quite as magnificent in a grass green ribbon, setting off his yellow fur.
"My, but it's nice here; better even than in summer!" cried Ralph, dropping down in the chair opposite Mrs. Scollard and stretching out his long legs in just the same sort of appreciation of the heat that the dog and the cat showed. "I don't believe I care about going back to town next week, and I don't see how you can look the Patty-Pan prospect calmly in the face. I believe I'll get Gretta to sell me her farm and turn gentleman farmer after I finish college—if ever I do!"
"More than doubtful," agreed Bob. "See here, Ralph, you can't bask! We've been informed on the reliable authority of our hostess that turkey's almost ready for the table, and our dressing isn't anything like done, though his is. You straighten up those long legs of yours and stand up on them, and steer them straight up-stairs to wash up!"
"I wonder," began Polly thoughtfully, as Ralph obeyed the first two of these four orders with a groan, "I wonder if your mother goes away to-day, and you boys are here, if Whoop-la will have any Thanksgiving."
"Were you going down on the afternoon train to feed him, little Lady Bountiful?" asked Ralph. Polly was his especial favorite of the lesser Scollards. "Be at rest; mother was not going until noon, and Whoop-la is provided for, amply. I think mother would not have any Thanksgiving herself, rather than neglect her cat."
"I always liked your mother," said Polly seriously.
"You can bank on mother's taking care of the weak," assented Ralph, as he joined Snigs and Bob in the hall.
"Boys, boys!" called Gretta ten minutes later, making herself heard with difficulty above the shouts of laughter from Bob's room. "Boys!"
"M'am!" responded Bob leaning over the balustrade, his face scarlet from the sharp winds of the morning, supplemented by a brisk rubbing.
"They told me to call you; dinner's ready," said Gretta.