“What time do you s’pose it is, Julia?”
“I think it must be twelve at least. They’re not coming for us to-night. They’ve forgotten us.”
Their parents had not forgotten them, but when meal-time came and they did not appear, the Davenports supposed they were over at the Gordons’, and the Gordons thought they were at the Davenports’. The children often stayed for meals without asking, and so neither family worried.
About half-past eight the Gordons decided to go and bring Julia home. When they walked in at the Davenports, the first question asked them was:
“Why did you not bring the children with you?”
“The children? Why, they are here, are they not?”
Anxiety immediately possessed every one present. Mrs. Davenport’s first thought was of the river, and her heart became leaden. She gave voice to her fear.
“Nonsense,” answered Mr. Davenport decidedly, although he himself was not so sure as he seemed; “they are not drowned.”
With lanterns to aid them, a search was begun through the grounds.
Two scared little girls presently saw lights flitting like fireflies below them.
“Perhaps it’s burglars.”
“Or—or the Prince to rescue us.”
“I don’t want any Prince; Julia. I want my mamma. I’m tired of being a Princess. I want to go home. Let’s call.”
“But what if they are burglars.”
“Burglars don’t carry lights, do they?”
Then they heard voices calling:
“Here we are, papa. Here, up in this big tree.”
This answer brought relief to many hearts. Even Julia was not sorry to descend again to earth, and be once more an ordinary girl. Romance is not always as pleasant as being practical. Let children who are inclined to run away from home, remember this.
The Horse Race
“I’m going to double the recipe, Maggie.”
“Law, honey, yo’ hadn’t best. I ’lows it’s more partickiler to get good dat way.”
“I can’t help it. I want plenty of it so the judges can all have a taste. They’ll be sure to give me a prize.”
Beth had on an apron in which she was almost lost. In her hand, she held an open cook book from which she read:
“‘The whites of five eggs.’ Twice five is ten. Give me ten eggs, Maggie.”
The good-natured Maggie counted out the desired number.
“I’ll break dem for yo’, honey.”
“No, Maggie, I must do it every bit myself or it wouldn’t be fair. Oh, dear me. The yolk has got into this one so it’s no good. Another egg, please, Maggie.”
All ten of the whites were finally in one dish. Beth tried to beat them and spattered them not only over herself but over the pantry floor.
“Whites of eggs are very slippery, Maggie.”