It was a
good-sized, square box, and with all that delightful air of mystery
about it that such packages usually have.
"What do you suppose it is, Paul?" Hilary cried. "Why, I've never had
anything come unexpectedly, like this, before."
"A whole lot of things are happening to us that never've happened
before," Patience said. "See, it's from Uncle Paul!" she pointed to
the address at the upper left-hand corner of the package. "Oh, Hilary,
let me open it, please, I'll go get the tack hammer."
"Tell mother to come," Hilary said.
"Maybe it's books, Paul!" she added, as Patience scampered off.
Pauline lifted the box. "It doesn't seem quite heavy enough for books."
"But what else could it be?"
Pauline laughed. "It isn't another Bedelia, at all events. It could
be almost anything. Hilary, I believe Uncle Paul is really glad I
wrote to him."
"Well, I'm not exactly sorry," Hilary declared.
"Mother can't come yet," Patience explained, reappearing. "She says
not to wait. It's that tiresome Mrs. Dane; she just seems to know when
we don't want her, and then to come--only, I suppose if she waited 'til
we did want to see her, she'd never get here."
"Mother didn't say that.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115