“But I thought you were to be on a boat all summer!” exclaims Miss Julia the next minute.
“Yes, I was, but—” and then, feeling that there is something even more important than an immediate explanation, Courage bounds out of the carriage again, that she may lead Larry to Miss Julia, and they of course shake hands very heartily, as two people should who have heard so much of each other. Then Larry and Courage between them explain matters, and Miss Julia in turn tells of her summer home, but a mile away on the Rumson Road, and of how very often she drives over the Shrewsbury Draw.
Meanwhile poor Sylvia has been having an anxious time of it. When Courage so unceremoniously dropped her end of the basket, several of the crabs went scrawling out of it, and, as you know, there is nothing more lively than a hard-shell crab, struggling with all its might to regain its native element. But with the aid of Miss Julia's man, who has sprung down from the rumble to help her, Sylvia does succeed in recapturing four of the runaways, not, alas! however, before two beauties have succeeded in gaining the edge of the bridge, and in plumping themselves back into the water with a splash that must have consumed with envy the hearts of their less fortunate fellows.
At last it is time for Sylvia to be introduced, and, as usual, her beaming face expresses her satisfaction. Then there is a general chatting for a little while longer, in which each bears a hand.
“And how pretty you have made it all!” says Miss Julia, taking up the reins, preparatory to driving on. “I never should have known the place, with the dainty dimity curtains at the windows and these starch boxes full of plants along the rail here; such nice old-fashioned plants, too—geraniums and lemon verbena and that little low plant with the funny name—oh, yes, I remember—portulaca. How long has it taken you to work such a transformation, Courage?”
“Only a week, Miss Julia. We came down last Monday; but then Sylvia and I have worked pretty hard.”
“Of course you have. You're a pair of regular wonder-working fairies, you and your faithful Sylvia. And now I must say good-bye, but not until Larry promises that you shall come, both of you, and spend day after to-morrow with me. I will send John down for you, with the ponies, bright and early, and we'll have such a day of it.”
Larry promised, Miss Julia drove on, and the children looked a delight which was, in very truth, unspeakable.