CHAPTER XVIII
THE HAND-ORGAN MAN
Hardly had the four younger girls disappeared across the fields on the way to school the next morning, when the Abbott carriage drew up in front of the little brown house, and Cecile and Frances hurried up the path to the door. Gail answered the imperative knock, and looked so surprised and pleased at the unexpected call that the Judge's daughter's face crimsoned with contrition and shame to think she had neglected this old-time friend so long.
"Why, Cecile!" stammered Gail, glancing involuntarily from the girls' fresh, white suits to her own shabby print frock and rolled-up sleeves. "This is a great treat. Come right in! We are so glad to have you call. Don't apologize; you are more than welcome. But please excuse my appearance. It is Monday morning and Faith and I are washing."
"Then don't you apologize, either," said Cecile, trying to laugh easily and failing utterly. "We should not have called at this outrageous hour, but Frances is to return to the city this afternoon, and she insisted upon coming to see about the children before she left."
"Oh!" The bright light died from Gail's eyes, and the girls looked uncomfortable. So it was an errand after all and not a friendly call which brought them. "What is the matter with the children? Has Peace—"
"No, oh, no, nothing has happened," Cecile began hastily, when Frances interrupted, "It was on my account. Your little whistler has captivated me completely—and mamma, too. We wanted to know if we might borrow them next Saturday, Peace and Allee, to help out in the program at a party I am giving that night. Oh, don't say no! I have set my heart on it. We will take the best care of them and bring them home early Sunday morning. We are coming out here for dinner at Mr. Strong's house that day, and of course must arrive in time for church service. Please say we can borrow them. I do want them so much!"
"Dear me," exclaimed Cecile in mortification. "I haven't even introduced you two girls. No wonder you think I am crazy, Gail. This is my chum from Martindale, Miss Sherrar, Miss Greenfield—"
"I'm Frances," again the radiant-faced stranger interrupted.