"Oh, she is Lady Alma Cara; it would never do for her to be plain Mrs.," said Trix.
"I suppose not," assented Mr. Dean, with a queer little quirk of the lip. "I like 'plain Mrs.' rather well myself sometimes, however. But I shall have to be just Mr. Oliver Twist; it would never do to turn poor hungry Oliver into a knight. Amy and I will be the every-day people, while you others do the nobility for us. And I should like to know when you are all coming to take tea with me? Will the day after to-morrow suit you?"
"Yes, thank you," replied the children.
"Then that's settled. And, Jack, do you know a boy who would go fishing with me to-morrow after school?"
"I think I do," said Jack, looking up with a beaming face.
"Then will that boy come along with me now, and get his mother's permission to go?" inquired Mr. Dean, rising. "And, by the way, at what time do we come for our mail?"
"We came at first before school," said Trix, "but it made us so late that now we come after school, when Miss Isabel used to come."
"Does Miss Isabel usually come at this hour?" asked Mr. Dean, brushing his hat carefully.
"She's not coming at all now," said Amy. "It's getting so warm, she says, that she would like us to bring her mail to her."
Something like a shadow crept over Mr. Dean's face; Margery thought that he looked hurt.