Part 3 (2/2)
”And he'd miss the nice hot chocolate and buns Mr. Howbridge says we are to have at Crowder's Inn,” put in Tess, the thoughtful.
Dot squeezed her Alice-doll close to her little bosom and made up her mind that that precious possession should not pop out by accident into a drift and be left behind.
”I don't suppose I should have brought her,” Dot confessed to Tess. ”I should have given the sailor-boy baby an airing instead.”
”Oh, yes! Nosmo King Kenway,” murmured her sister.
Dot hurried on, ignoring the suggestive name of the sailor-boy baby who had been inadvertently christened after a sign on a barn door.
”You know,” the smallest Corner House girl said, ”Alice's complexion is so delicate. Of course, Neale had her all made over in the doll's hospital; but I am always afraid that the wind will crack it.”
”I wouldn't worry so about her, Dot,” advised Tess.
”You would if Alice were your baby,” declared Dot. ”And you know she is delicate. She's never been the same since Lillie Treble buried her with the dried apples in our back yard.”
Meanwhile Neale O'Neil had caught a sentence or two flung back by the wind from the high front seat. He bobbed up between Mr. Howbridge and Ruth.
”What's all this about red deer, and snowshoes, and eating icicle soup?” he asked. ”Sounds awfully interesting. Are you planning to go hunting, Mr. Howbridge?”
”I've got to go to a hunting lodge, clear up state, my boy,” said the lawyer. ”And I dread it just as much as you young folks would enjoy it.”
”It would be fine, I think,” murmured Ruth.
”Oh, bully!” shouted Agnes, suddenly standing up in the straw and clinging to Neale for support. ”To a regular, sure-enough winter camp?
Then Carrie and Lucy Poole, and Trix Severn can't crow over us any more! They went, last year, to Letterbeg Camp, up beyond Hoosac.”
”But, goodness, Agnes, wait till we are asked, do!” admonished Ruth.
”I never saw or heard of such precipitate young ones.”
”Young one yourself!” grumbled Agnes.
”It's my fault,” said the good-natured Neale. ”Aggie misunderstood what I said.”
”No need to worry about it,” said Mr. Howbridge cheerfully. ”If you young folks really want to come with me--”
”Oh, Mr. Howbridge!” exclaimed Ruth, in a tone that showed she, herself, had been much taken with the idea.
”Why, I hate to go alone. I can send up some servants to open the Lodge. Frank was always begging me to make use of it. After Mrs.
Birdsall was killed he never would go near the place, as I said.
Though I believe the twins, Ralph and Rowena, have been up there with a caretaker and a governess, or somebody to look out for them.”
”Where are they now?” asked Ruth.
”The Birdsall place in Arlington was closed soon after Frank died, three months ago. His old butler and his wife live in a nice home near by, and they have the children and their governess with them.”
”With just servants?” murmured Ruth.
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