CHAPTER XI
WHAT WAS “IN THE WIND”
IT was afternoon, and the Baltimore express was nearing the station at Old Point. From the window of the parlor car three very solemn little faces were looking out at the familiar landscape. It did not seem possible that less than twenty-four hours had elapsed since they had seen it last. It seemed to the children that they must have been away for at least a month. It had not been a cheerful journey, for Mr. Barlow was very much annoyed, and had had a long serious talk with his small son and daughter, in the course of which Jerry and Geraldine had both been reduced to repentant tears.
“When Father scolds he’s much worse than Mother,” Geraldine whispered to Gretel. “He doesn’t get angry often, but when he does it’s something awful. We really have been dreadfully bad. Father says when Mother got our letter, and found the boat had gone, she was so frightened she had hysterics. Did you ever see any one have hysterics?”
Gretel said she never had.
“Then you don’t want to. We’ve seen Mother lots of times and it’s awful. Miss Heath was frightened, too, and so was your brother. I wonder if you’ll be punished when you get home.”
“Of course she won’t,” declared Jerry, indignantly; “it wasn’t her fault; she only came to take care of us. I’m going to tell Mr. Douane so the minute I see him.”
Gretel gave her little friend a grateful glance.
“I shouldn’t like Percy to be angry with me,” she said. “I wonder if he’ll be at the station.”
“I guess he will,” said Jerry. “Father says he would have come on the night train to Baltimore with him, only they couldn’t be quite sure you were with us, so he had to stay and look for you, but Father telegraphed this morning as soon as he found us on the boat, so everybody knows now.”
“Here’s the station,” announced Geraldine from the car window, “and there are Mr. Douane and Miss Heath on the platform. O dear! I wish my hair wasn’t so mussed, and my dress so dirty. Miss Heath always looks so neat.”