"If the girls are to go out to dinner," she said, "I think they had better go upstairs and dress: it's almost six o'clock."
"Are we going out to dinner?" exclaimed Lois.
"Yes, both of you," replied Mrs. Farwell; "so hurry up."
"Thank you so much, it's ever so kind of you to ask me, too," said Polly, suddenly mindful of Aunt Hannah and her instructions in manners, then, as suddenly forgetting them:
"What a lark, we'll be ready in a jiffy," and catching Lois by the arm she dragged her up stairs.
The Village hotel, under Dr. Farwell's insistent demands, produced a passably good dinner. Every one was in such high spirits that the time flew by.
"Isn't it funny," laughed Lois, as they delayed finishing their cream and cake, "to be having dinner here with my family? Last time it was with Uncle Roddy."
"Yes, isn't it?" agreed Polly. "I wonder what happened to the parrot?"
The waiter, who was passing the coffee, heard the question and said sadly:
"He died a month ago, Miss--of a cold in his head. We miss him sore," he added dolefully.
"What a shame!" exclaimed Polly and Lois together.
"I'll have to write Uncle Roddy and tell him," and Polly tried hard not to look amused.
The waiter looked grateful and after a polite "Thank you, Miss," left the room solemnly shaking his head.
The trouble with a good time is that there is always an end in sight. We often don't look for it, and then pretend it's not there. But we're sure to find it sooner or later lurking around the corner somewhere.
The end of this particular good time took the shape of the train to Albany, and the accusing hands of the hotel clock warned the Farwells of its near approach.
They saw the girls back to Seddon Hall and after repeated good-bys, drove off down the hill.
Polly and Lois watched the lamp on the carriage until it disappeared around a bend in the road.
"All over," sighed Lois, unwillingly coming back to earth. "And we missed study hour, and there's a Latin test tomorrow."
"Oh, bother Latin, we can get up early in the morning and cram. Lo, your mother and father are the dearest people I ever met. I mean it, truly," said Polly.
Lois looked at her intently. They were on the porch and it was dark--
"Don't you like Bob a little tiny bit, too?" she asked mischievously.