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Page 4
"Come and go down to the post-office with me. I must take these
lettahs."
"All right," said Rob, wheeling the gray horse around beside the black
pony, and smiling broadly as he looked down into the Little Colonel's
welcoming eyes. "You don't know how good it feels to get back to the
country again, Lloyd. I could hardly wait for school to close, when I'd
think about the fish waiting for me out here in the creek, and the wild
strawberries getting ripe, and the horses just spoiling to be exercised.
It was more than I could stand. What have you been doing all winter?"
"Oh, the same old things: school and music lessons, and good times in
the evenin' with mothah and papa Jack and grandfathah."
As they jogged along, side by side, the Little Colonel chatting gaily of
all that had happened since their last meeting, Rob kept casting curious
glances at her. "What have you been doing to yourself, Lloyd Sherman?"
he demanded, finally. "You look so--so _different_!" There was such a
puzzled expression in his sharp gray eyes that the Little Colonel
laughed. Then her hand flew up to her head.
"Don't you see? I've had my hair cut. I had to beg and beg befo' mothah
and papa Jack would let me have it done; but it was so long,--away below
my waist,--and _such_ a bothah. It had to be brushed and plaited a dozen
times a day."
"I don't like it that way. It isn't a bit becoming," said Rob, with the
frankness of old comradeship. "You look like a boy. Why, it is as short
as mine."
"I don't care," answered Lloyd, her eyes flashing dangerously. "It's
comfortable this way, and grandfathah likes it. He says he's got his
Little Colonel back again now, and he sent to town for this Napoleon hat
like the ones I used to weah when I was a little thing."
"When you were a little thing!" laughed Rob, teasingly. "What do you
think you are now, missy? You're head and shoulders shorter than I am."
"I'm eleven yeahs old, anyway, I'd have you to undahstand, Bobby Moore,"
answered the Little Colonel, with such dignity that Rob wished he hadn't
spoken. "I was eleven last week. That was one of my birthday presents,
havin' my own way about cuttin' my hair, and anothah was the house
pahty. Oh, you don't know anything about the house pahty I'm to have in
June, do you!" she cried, every trace of displeasure vanishing at the
thought. "Grandfathah and papa Jack are goin' away fo' a month to some
mineral springs in Va'ginia, and I'm to have my house pahty in June to
keep mothah and me from bein' lonesome. It will not be a very big one,
only three girls to spend June with me, but mothah says we can have
picnics every day if we want to, and invite all the boys and girls in
the Valley, and we can have the house full from mawnin' till night. I'll
invite you right now for every day that you want to come. We'll expect
you at all the pahties and picnics and candy-pullin's that we have. I
want you to help me give the girls a good time, Bobby."
Rob whirled his cap around his head with a "Whe-ew! Jolly for you!"
before he answered more politely, "Thank you, Lloyd, you can count on me
for my part. I'll be on hand every time you turn around, if you want me.
Who all's coming?"
For answer Lloyd held up the three letters she was carrying, and let him
see the first address, written in Mrs. Sherman's flowing hand.
_Miss Eugenia Forbes,_
_The Waldorf-Astoria,_
_New York City._
"Well, who is she?" he asked, reading it aloud.
"Eugenia is a sort of cousin of mine," explained Lloyd. "At least her
fathah and my fathah are related in some way. I used to know her when
we lived in New York, but I haven't seen her since we left. I was five
then and she was seven, so she must be neahly thirteen yeahs old now.
When we played togethah she would scream and _scream_ if I didn't give
up to her in everything, and as I had a bad tempah, too, we were always
fussin'. She was dreadfully spoiled. I'll nevah fo'get how my hand bled
one day when she bit it, or how she clawed my face till it looked as if
a tigah had scratched it."
"Then what did you do?" asked Rob, with a grin. He had experimented with
Lloyd's temper himself in the past.
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