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Updated: May 1, 2025
The doorman looked at Pompton. "You ought to keep yer kids together, an' not let yer party get sep'rated." "It wasn't Pompton's fault at all!" cried King, indignantly. "My sister came out here to wait for us, and of course she's around here somewhere. She must be in one of the tents. May we go and look for her?" "Sure! Go where you like.
Pompton's eyes twinkled good-naturedly as he said this, and Marjorie instinctively recognized that he was trying to joke. "Ah, you're fond of us already, Pompton, and you needn't say you're not! It's a funny thing," she went on, confidentially, "but everybody loves us Maynards, and yet we're such a bad lot." "A bad lot, Miss?" "Well, full of the old scratch, you know; always cutting up jinks.
Aside from his threatening face, red with rage, and stormy with indignation, Pompton's terrifying aspect was increased by the chauffeur's costume which he wore. His goggles were pushed up on his brow, but his eyes darted vengeance, and the three gypsy women were completely cowed at the sight of him. "You shall pay for this outrage!" he exclaimed; "and don't think you will be let down easy!
"Well, we're safe now, anyway," cried Marjorie, skipping along gaily by Pompton's side; "and here's our dear, blessed car! Oh, King, I'm so glad we're safe!" In a reaction of joy, Marjorie threw her arms around her brother's neck, and the tears came to her eyes. "There, there, Mops," and King patted her shoulders, while there was a suggestion of emotion in his own voice; "it's all right now!
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