After much scrabbling and stirring up of trunks the whole family was dressed in what Mrs. Carter and Helen considered suitable garments, with the exception of Mr. Carter, who could not be coerced into a dinner coat.
“I can’t think that a quiet supper in the country with two old ladies who are renting us the overseer’s cottage could possibly call for formal dressing. Of course, you women know best what you want to wear, and very handsome all of you look I am sure, but you must excuse me.”
“That’s what I say!” exclaimed Bobby, putting his hands in his pockets and trying to balance himself with his feet very far apart. “Me’n Father certainly do nachelly hate clean clothes. When I gits to be growed up, I’m gonter be a barefoot tramp an’ ain’t never gonter wash nor nothin’.” Bobby was still smarting and indignant from the polishing Helen had seemed to think the occasion demanded, especially concentrating on his long-suffering ears.
“Sometimes I wisht I hadn’t never had my curls cut off. Folks weren’t near so ’ticular ’bout my yers when I had curls. They kinder hid ’em.”
“But, Bobby, when you are going to have supper with a count you must be very carefully dressed,” explained Lucy. “Counts are not just common persons like us.”
“I thank you I’m no common person,” drawled Nan. “I’m a good American and fit to dine with any count living. That’s the way Douglas and I feel. We wouldn’t have changed our dresses if Mother and Helen hadn’t made such a point of it.”
“Good for you, Nan!” and her father put his arm around her. “Of course you must dress as your mother sees fit, but don’t, for goodness’ sake, think a man, because he is a count or even a king, must be treated differently from any other gentleman of your acquaintance.”
They were on their way to Grantly, only about five minutes’ walk from the farmhouse. The sun had set in a blaze of glory but already the great October moon was doing her best to take his place. There was a hint of frost in the air and our Carters were bringing their appetites with them to grace the board of their hospitable landladies.
“I do hope Miss Ella and Miss Louise won’t quarrel all the time,” whispered Helen as they approached the imposing mansion.