"And isn't it a great thing that we mortals are given a few extra natal
days? If we were born all at one time we couldn't so well enjoy the
processes. Now, I intend to assume that fate has laid you on my door-step
and--"
"Dearie me," said Mrs. Buchanan as she sailed into the room with colors
flying in cheeks and eyes, "did Phoebe go on to that meeting after all?
Did she promise to come back? Where's Andrew? Caroline, child, what have
you and the major been doing all the afternoon? It's after four and you
are both still indoors."
"I have been adopting Caroline Darrah and she has been adopting me,"
answered the major as he caught hold of the lace that trailed from one of
his wife's wrists. "I think I am about to persuade her to stay with us. I
find I need attention occasionally and you are otherwise engaged for the
winter."
"Isn't he awful, Caroline," smiled Mrs. Matilda as she sank for a moment
on a chair near them, "when I haven't a thought in the day that is not
for him? But I must hurry and tell Tempie that they will all be here from
the philharmonic musicale for tea. Dear, please see that the flowers are
arranged; I had to leave it to Jane this morning. I find I must run over
and speak to Mrs. Shelby about something important, for a moment. Shall I
have buttered biscuits or cake for tea? Caroline, love, just decide and
tell Tempie. I'll be back in a minute," and depositing an airy kiss on
the major's scalp lock and bestowing a smile on Caroline, she departed.
The major listened until he heard the front door close then said with one
of his slow little smiles, "If I couldn't shut my eye and get a mental
picture of her in a white sunbonnet with her skirts tucked up trudging
along behind me dropping corn in the furrows as I opened them with the
plow, I might feel that I ought to--er--remonstrate with her. But there
are bubbles in the nature of most women that will rise to the surface as
soon as the cork is removed. Matilda is a good brand of extra dry and the
cork was in a long time--rammed down tight--bless her!"
"She is the very dearest thing I ever knew," answered Caroline with a
curly smile around her tender mouth. "A letter she wrote while under the
pressure of the cork is my chiefest treasure. It was written to welcome
me when I was born and I found it last summer, old and yellow. It was
what made me think I might come--_home_."
"That was like Matilda," answered the major with a smile in his eyes.
"She was putting in a claim for you then, though she didn't realize it.
Women have always worked combinations by wireless at long time and long
distance. Better make it buttered biscuits, and Phoebe likes them with
plenty of butter."