For as it happened the boys had already decided on their costumes for the masquerade, and that very morning they had made Auntie David promise to help in getting these up. Mr. Davidson would be detained some weeks longer in the East, and Mrs. Davidson was to go to Silver Gate City with the Bradstreets when they broke camp.
“It’s always nice to have Auntie David with us,” remarked Pauline the next day as The Merry Five were walking to the bee-ranch; “but this fall it will be nicer than usual, because Mrs. Cannon isn’t well enough yet to come back to work, and Auntie David can teach the new housekeeper.”
Kirke’s brown eyes twinkled.
“Mrs. Cannon went off, did she, Pauline? That’s the way with cannons;—they’re always going off.”
“I hope our epitaph will go off well,” returned Pauline, as they drew near the bee-hives where Mr. Wasson was at work.
“Remember, Polly, you are the one to speak about it,” whispered Molly diffidently. “You and Paul know the Wassons.”
Mr. Wasson greeted them all cordially; and as soon as Mrs. Wasson had changed her dress she greeted them cordially too, and treated them to fresh buttermilk and gingerbread. This light repast ended, Pauline moved restlessly in her chair, uncertain how to begin her little speech. But little Miss Weezy presently relieved her embarrassment by saying,—
“We’ve brought you some beautiful poetry, Mr. Wasson; some we made all by ourselves.”
“Some poetry, little girl?”
Mr. Wasson arched his eyebrows till they looked more like bows than like overturned canoes.