It's to be at four
o'clock this afternoon, an' you got to come."
Burns scoffed at the whole thing and told Guy to get to work at the
potatoes, and if he left down the bars so that the Pig got out he'd
skin him alive; he would have no such fooling round his place. But Mrs
Burns calmly informed him that _she_ was going. It was to her
much like going to see a university degree conferred on her boy.
Since Burns would not assist, the difficulty of the children now
arose. This, however, was soon settled. They should go along. It was
two hours' toil for the mother to turn the four brown-limbed, nearly
naked, dirty, happy towsle-tops into four little martyrs, befrocked,
beribboned, becombed and be-booted. Then they all straggled across the
field, Mrs. Burns carrying the baby in one arm and a pot of jam in
the other. Guy ran ahead to show the way, and four-year-old,
three-year-old and two-year-old, hand in hand, formed a diagonal line
in the wake of the mother.
They were just a little surprised on getting to camp to find Mrs.
Raften and Minnie there in holiday clothes. Marget's first feeling was
resentment, but her second thought was a pleasant one. That "stuck-up"
woman, the enemy's wife, should see her boy's triumph, and Mrs.
Pages:
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392