“But you won’t any more. I don’t think you realize what bad taste it is, for a child to speak so of an elder person. Call your school friends by nicknames, if you like, but show to grown-ups the civility and respect that good-breeding calls for.”
“All right; I’ll call her the Honorable Miss Larkin; Dear Madam,” and King swept a magnificent bow nearly to the floor, in token of his great respect for the lady.
“But do hurry home as soon as you can,” said Marjorie, as she squeezed her father’s coat sleeve with one hand, and with the other reached out to grasp a fold of her mother’s trailing gown.
“We’ll be gone just six weeks, dearie,” said Mr. Maynard. “I can’t remain away longer than that. And I think that will be long enough to make the roses bloom once more on Mother’s wan cheeks.” Mrs. Maynard smiled.
“I’m not really ill, Ed,” she said; “it’s more of a pleasure trip than a health trip, I think. And six weeks will be quite long enough to burden Miss Larkin with these four beautiful but not very manageable children.”
“And, oh, Father,” cried Marjorie, “there’ll be an Ourday while you’re gone! What shall we do about that?”
“Bless my stars!” said Mr. Maynard; “so there will. I hadn’t thought of that! Shall we give up the trip, Helen?”
“No,” said Kitty, who always took things seriously; “we can have two Ourdays together when you come back.”
“Bravo, Kitsie!” said her father; “you have a logical head. I think you had better take charge of the family while we’re gone.”
“I’m not old enough,” said Kitty, practically. “But I’ll help all I can.”
“I know you will,” said Mrs. Maynard, caressing her. “And you’ll all do the best you can. I know my quartette, and I can trust them to do right,—if they think in time.”
“That’s just it,” said Mr. Maynard, his eyes twinkling. “I expect King or Midget will pull the house down around Miss Larkin’s ears, and then excuse themselves by saying they forgot it was mischievous until it was all over.”
“All over Miss Larkin, I suppose you mean,” said Marjorie, chuckling at her own joke.
“Oho!” laughed Kingdon; “Mopsy’s quite a wit, isn’t she? Give us another, Midget!”
As he spoke, he affectionately pulled off Marjorie’s hair ribbon, and the mop of dark curls that gave her one of her nicknames came tumbling all over her laughing face.