Back Aa

Turn Of The Tide, The

Close

<h2>88CHAPTER XI</h2> Christmas was a wonderful day at Five Oaks, certainly to Margaret. First there was the joy of skipping, bare-toed, across the room to where the long black stockings hung from the mantel. In the gray dawn of the early morning its bulging knobbiness looked delightfully mysterious; and never were presents half so entrancing as those drawn from its black depths by Margaret’s small eager fingers. Later in the morning came the sleigh-ride behind the doctor’s span of bays, and then there was the delicious dinner followed by the games and the frolics and the quiet hour with mother. Still later the house began to fill with guests and then came the wedding, with Mrs. Kendall all in soft gray and looking radiantly happy on the doctor’s arm. It was a simple ceremony and soon over, and then came the long line of beaming friends and neighbors to wish the bride and groom joy and 89 God-speed. Margaret, standing a little apart by the dining-room door, felt a sudden pull at her sleeve. She turned quickly and looked straight into Bobby McGinnis’s eyes. “Bobby, why, Bobby!” she welcomed joyously; but Bobby put his finger to his lips. “Sh-h!” he cautioned; then, peremptorily, “Come.” And he led the way through the deserted dining-room to a little room off the sidehall where the gloom made his presence almost indiscernible. “There!” he sighed in relief. “I fetched ye, didn’t I?” Margaret frowned. “But, Bobby,” she remonstrated, “why—what are you doing out here, all in the dark?” “Seein’ you.” “Seeing me! But I was in there, where ’twas all light and pretty, and you could see me lots better there!” “Yes, but I wa’n’t there,” retorted Bobby, grimly; then he added: “‘Twa’n’t my party, ye see, an’ I wa’n’t invited. But I wanted ter see ye—an’ I did, too.” Margaret was silent. “Mebbe ye want ter go back now yerself,” observed Bobby, 90 gloomily, after a time. “’Tain’t so pretty here, I’ll own.” Margaret did want to go back, and she almost said so, but something in the boy’s voice silenced the words on her lips. “Oh, I’ll stay, ‘course,” she murmured, shifting about uneasily on her little white-slippered feet. Bobby roused himself. “Here, take a chair,” he proposed, pushing toward her a low stool; “an’ I’ll set here on the winder sill. Nice night; ain’t it?” “Yes, ’tis.” Margaret sat down, carefully spreading her skirts. There was a long silence. Through the half-open door came a shaft of light and the sound of distant voices. Bobby was biting his finger nails, and Margaret was wondering just how she could get back to the drawing-room without hurting the feelings of her unbidden guest. At last the boy spoke. “Mebbe when we’re grown up we’ll get married, too,” he blurted out, saying the one thing he had intended not to say. He bit his tongue angrily, but the next minute he almost fell off the window sill in his amazement—the little girl had sprung to her feet and clapped her hands. 91 “Bobby, could we?” she cried. “Sure!” rejoined Bobby with easy nonchalance. “Why not?” “And there’d be flowers and music and lots of people to see us?” “Heaps!” promised Bobby. “Oh-h!” sighed Margaret ecstatically. “And then we’ll go traveling ‘way over to London and Paris and Egypt and see the Alps.” “Huh?” The voice of the prospective young bridegroom sounded a little uncertain. “We’ll go traveling to see things, you know,” reiterated Margaret. “There’s such a lot of things I want to see.” “Oh, yes, we’ll go travelin’,” assured Bobby, promptly, wondering all the while if he could remember just where his mother’s geography was. He should have need of it after he got home that night. London, Paris, Egypt, and the Alps—it might be well to look up the way to get there, at all events. “I think maybe now I’ll go back,” said Margaret, with sudden stiffness. “They might be looking for me. Good-bye.” “Oh, I say, Maggie,” called Bobby, eagerly, 92 “when folks is engaged they——” But only the swish of white skirts answered him, and there was nothing for him to do but disconsolately to let himself out the side door before any one came and found him. “And I’m going to get married, too,” said Margaret to her mother half an hour later. “You’re going to get married!” “Yes; to Bobby, you know.” The newly-made bride sat down suddenly, and threw a quick look at her husband. “To Bobby!” she exclaimed. “Why, when—where—Bobby wasn’t here.” “No,” smiled Margaret. “He said he wasn’t invited, but he came. We fixed it all up a little while ago. We’re going to London and Paris and Egypt and see the Alps.” <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2