The Clifford children were very anxious to see Susie and Prudy, and it seemed a long while to wait; but the Portland schools had a vacation at last, and then it was time to expect the little cousins.
The whole family were impatient to see them and their excellent mother. Grandma lost her spectacles very often that afternoon, and every time she went to the window to look out, the ball of her knitting-work followed her, as Grace said, "like a little kitten."
There was great joy when the stage really drove up to the door. The cousins were rather shy of each other at first, and Prudy hid her face, all glowing with smiles and blushes, in her plump little hands. But the stiffness wore away, and they were all as well acquainted as ever they had been, in about ten minutes.
"Ain't that a bumpin' stage, though?" cried Horace; "just like a baby-jumper."
"We came in it, you know, Susie," said Grace; "didn't it shake like a corn-popper?"
"I want to go and see the piggy and ducks," said Prudy.
"Well," whispered Susie, "wait till after supper."
The Cliffords were delighted with their little cousins. When they had last seen Prudy, which was the summer before, they had loved her dearly. Now she was past five, and "a good deal cunninger than ever;" or so Horace thought. He liked her pretty face, her gentle ways, and said very often if he had such a little sister he'd "go a-dyin'."
To be sure Susie was just his age, and could run almost as fast as he could; still Horace did not fancy her half as much as Prudy, who could not run much without falling down, and who was always sure to cry if she got hurt.
Grace and Susie were glad that Horace liked Prudy so well, for when they were cutting out dolls' dresses, or playing with company, it was pleasant to have him take her out of the way.