"On that rock we split," said he, solemnly, pointing to a big stone that rose high above a rut. "If I hadn't been so busy apologizing, Edith, we wouldn't have gone to pieces. However, perhaps now you will use the surrey."
It was a dangerous speech, but Edith tried not to mind it, and she helped Neal to clear away the stuff. Then they started for home, Ned leading Robin, the old horse, while together they carried the cushions and a lap-robe that had been under the seat.
Neal, his spirits raised by the accident, was in his gayest humor, and the quiet air rang with his laughter as they trudged home in the heat. Edith quite forgot her previous displeasure, and was so like her old self that Neal in his turn was surprised, and thought she was almost as nice as Cynthia. He had never seen her in this mood before.
When Neal abruptly deserted the children in his pursuit of Edith they were at first too much amazed to do anything but stand perfectly still and watch him. Then, as the back of the buggy disappeared behind the trees, their wrath found words.
"Mean old things!" exclaimed Janet. "They've gone off and left us, an' I tickerlarly wanted Neal to tell us a story."
Bob joined the group, his tail disconsolately lowered. His master had been very harsh and unfeeling to leave him at home, he thought. The trio stood in a row on the top step of the piazza. Then, with a feeble and melancholy wag of the tail, Bob again stretched himself on the grass and prepared to make the best of a bad bargain.
The others were not so easily appeased.
"We've got nuffun' to do," grumbled Willy. "I wish we could play wif de chickens."
"We can't do that," said Janet, decidedly. "We can't touch those chickens if we don't want a terrible spanking. You know what papa said."