"Cotton stockings will be the appropriate things to wear at camp," was the last thought Helen had. "I don't see how I could spend the summer in town after the oath I have taken. I couldn't show my face, or rather my feet, on the street."
"So did I. If any one had told me I could sleep a wink, I would have been furious. I wish we could hear from Father. You saw Cousin Lizzie felt just exactly as I did about that Dr. Wright. He may be all right and he may be all wrong. If he is all wrong, couldn't he make us dance, though? He could sell us out, lock, stock and barrel, pocket the proceeds and skidoo."
"Oh, Helen, how can you even give such a horrid idea a moment's lodgement in your mind? Dr. Wright is as good as he looks, I am sure. He certainly looks kind and honest."
"Well, he ought to be honest he is so ugly."
The girls were still in bed, which they had shared ever since they had been promoted from cradles. It was Saturday morning and the day before had been the one of trial.
"Yes, I see he is a very fine young man who thought, and quite rightly, that we had been blindly selfish and heartless to let Father work so hard; and he let us know what he thought of us and it got your goat."
"Is that the way you are going to express yourself in your B. M. exams? Because if it is, you will win a scholarship surely."
"If I only could!... Come in!" in answer to a knock at the door.
"Telegraph fer you, Miss Douglas. I hope an' trus' 'tain't no bad news 'bout yo' maw and paw," said the housemaid, bringing in a dreaded yellow envelope. "Uncle Oscar, he dreamed 'bout aigs las' night an' they was whole an' entire, an' all de dream books say dat it is a sho' sign an' symbol er trouble. De trouble is in de shell an' time alone will hatch it out."
"Well, this is good news, Susan," laughed Douglas as she quickly scanned the message: "'Your father and mother slept well and are now enjoying breakfast at Pennsylvania Station. Will see you this evening. George Wright.'"
"Well, Glory be! It can't be Mr. Carter what the bad luck is layin' fer. I 'low it is dat lo' down nigger Jim, Uncle Oscar's sister's step-son, what got stuck in de lonesome ribs by a frien' at meetin' las' Sunday with one er these here unsafety razors," and Susan took herself off to give out in the kitchen that no doubt Jim was going to die, since Mr. Carter was improving.