Amy (restlessly). I am so excited I can’t keep still. If Jack hadn’t telegraphed when he did, I could never have survived the nervous strain—but weren’t the men’s faces lovely when you read the despatch at luncheon! Sly dogs!
Helen. I hope it will take the boys so long to clear the snow off Silverspoon that we can have your cousin alone for a few minutes.
Rose. No such luck as that! Our evening’s skating will hardly weigh with them, compared to the danger of our greeting the supposed Mr. Parker without their moral support to carry him through.
Helen. I almost wish it were Mr. Parker instead of Mr. Williams who is coming. How we could torture them all by awkward questions!
Rose. I don’t think I ever appreciated before how deliciously the Indian must feel when he takes his enemy’s scalp.
Mrs. W. Why, you blood-thirsty little wretch!
Helen. Mama, we must make our arrangements so that they will have no chance to interview him this evening. Then, to-morrow, we will either fully coach him, or let them find out the trick—according to our wishes.
Mrs. W. Let me see,—I will meet him at the front door; the moment the carriage drives up—
Helen. Yes, and you must bring him in here to tea. We won’t let him go till the bell rings for dressing. Then we will all see him upstairs.
Mrs. W. But you can’t watch him after he is once in his room, and any of the men can go to him.