Patience had been a model of behavior all the evening. Mother would be
sure to ask if she had been good, when they got home. That was one of
those aggravating questions that only time could relieve her from. No
one ever asked Paul, or Hilary, that--when they'd been anywhere.
As Mr. Dayre had promised, the party broke up early, going off in the
various rigs they had come in. Tom and Josie went in the trap with the
Shaws. "It's been perfectly lovely--all of it," Josie said, looking
back along the road they were leaving. "Every good time we have seems
the best one yet."
"You wait 'til my turn comes," Pauline told her. "I've such a scheme
in my head."
"Am I in it?" Patience begged. She was in front, between Tom, who was
driving, and Hilary, then she leaned forward, they were nearly home,
and the lights of the parsonage showed through the trees. "There's a
light in the parlor--there's company!"
Pauline looked, too. "And one up in our old room, Hilary. Goodness,
it must be a visiting minister! I didn't know father was expecting
anyone."
"I bet you!" Patience jumped excitedly up and down. "I just bet it
isn't any visiting minister--but a visiting--uncle! I feel it in my
bones, as Miranda says.
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