CHAPTER XV
GOING HOME
It was now autumn. The trees couldn't keep green any longer, for their time had come; so they just made the best of it, like sad faces laughing through tears, and glowed and flushed in a perfect blaze of glory, making believe they were having splendid times all by themselves, and didn't care for what was coming.
The Parlin children had stayed a great deal longer than their parents at first meant they should stay, and now they must really go back to Portland.
The little cousins were sorry to part, for you know they had learned to love one another dearly. Grace and Susy clung together till the last moment.
"O Susy," sobbed Grace, "don't you forget these good times! Remember to write, no matter how it looks. I wish I hadn't got to go 'way off out West. I never did have such times in any place as we've had here at grandma's."
"Nor I either," said Susy, looking sorrowfully at the barn, the seat in the trees, and the clover patch. "Remember, you're coming back in just two years. Won't it be splendid?—O dear, but two years is 'most forever!" added Susy, suddenly breaking down.
"Good by, Prudy," said Horace, climbing into the stage-coach, quite out of breath. He had run all the way to the post office just for the sake of seeing her again.
"Good by, Prudy. You're the cunningest little spud! If you lived out West I'd just go a-flyin'."