"I hear him now, coming through the back way," she said, and had scarcely spoken when Jack appeared, half a dozen cookies in each hand and busy with another.
"Winnie's baking," he explained, not very clear in speech, "and I helped myself. They're prime; have one," and he offered each girl a cookie with princely generosity.
"Now, Jack, what's your secret?" demanded Margery. "Are you going to tell me to-day? Mind those crumbs; this room's been swept this morning."
Jack nodded energetically, signifying in pantomime that he would tell them as soon as the cookies had disappeared; so there was nothing to do but wait for this to happen with what patience they could summon. At last the final morsel vanished, and after a provokingly elaborate brushing of his knees, and careful sweeping up of crumbs with the hearth-brush, Jack seated himself on the edge of a chair, and looked from one to the other.
"Oh, tell me, Jack; hurry up!" cried Margery, while Trix threw a down pillow at him, which he caught, saying:
"Thank you," putting it at his back. "Do you want me to tell you, Megsy?" he asked. "Well, I'm going away to school."
A thunderbolt in the midst of the snow could not have produced greater consternation.
"Jack!" cried all three in tones of horror. "You're not."
"Yes, I am; papa has decided. I am going next Monday."
"To boarding-school?" asked Trix, regret at his going and envy struggling in her face.