“Not with papa and mamma, darling?” said Molly. “They’ll go with us and so will Captain Bradstreet, and they’ll all take care of The Merry Five.”
“Here’s three cheers for Europe!” shouted Kirke, swinging his cap. “And hurrah! Three cheers for The Merry Five!”
“Hurrah! Free chairs for Mary Five!” echoed little Donald, flapping his arms like a windmill in a gale. “Hurrah! Free chairs for Mary Five!”
It was so droll to hear him that his listeners all laughed: and who can wonder?
“Bravo, Don!” roared Kirke, tossing the little cheerer over his shoulder. “If your Mary Five wants free chairs she ought to have ’em!”
“So I say,” said Molly, drying her eyes. “And a little boy that can shout for her like that deserves a reserved seat!”
“Let’s give him one—a reserved seat in our club,” returned Kirke good-naturedly. “He ought to come into The Merry Five.”
“Only with him, you see, we shouldn’t be The Merry Five any longer,” demurred Molly; “there’d be one to carry.”
“Then we might call ourselves The Merry Six: how is that?” amended Kirke, setting Donald down again. “What do you say to The Merry Six?”
“The Merry Half Dozen would be nicer, I think,” put in Weezy; “a great deal nicer.”