"Oh, that could be easily managed."
"Could it?" he said, earnestly. "Believe me, I would do anything to—to—render the fate of my children less unfortunate."
There was a touch of feeling in his voice that softened Missy.
"I wish you would be resolute about this then, and make the change at once. I could—mamma could tell you, perhaps, of good servants, and how to manage. Believe me, it isn't so hard sending off servants and getting new ones. I wish you were as angry with these as I am. You would not find it hard."
Mr. Andrews smiled a little, but it was faintly, and he looked perplexed.
"If I only knew what to do," he said again. "If you will tell me the way, I will walk in it."
"Well, in the first place," said Missy, nothing loth, "I would take the horses at once and drive over to Eel Creek, where I understand the picnic party are, and capture the children—they may not get home till midnight, for you see the wind is against them, and these men know nothing about sailing. No doubt they meant to be home long before this time, starting so early, but they are not in sight. I have been watching for them. Then bring the children to our house; we will take care of them till matters are settled. Then, you know, when the servants get home, after being detected in such a scrape as this, they can expect nothing but to be dismissed. I am sure they would be much surprised at any other ending of the adventure, and they will take it very quietly."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of them, I believe," said Mr. Andrews, with a smile. "Only I don't exactly know how to go about it. What have they done? What shall I say to them? Is going on a picnic without permission sufficient ground to dismiss them all at once?"
"The champagne is, and the claret—and the chickens—and the deceit—and the children—and the sail-boat!" exclaimed Missy, rather incoherently.
"I suppose you are right," said Mr. Andrews, with a sigh. "They may well be glad to get off without any trouble."