United States or Sudan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
A subscription of half a crown per quarter entitles you to go without ninety-two luncheons." "This must be something new," exclaimed Tarrington. "It's the same aunt that I've always had," said Clovis coldly. "I perfectly well remember meeting you at a luncheon-party given by your aunt," persisted Tarrington, who was beginning to flush an unhealthy shade of mottled pink.
"Won't we get home to your place, Grandpa?" asked Laddie. "It's hard to tell," answered the old gentleman. "But, if worst comes to worst, we can stay on the train all night. We can sleep here and eat here, but perhaps we can get almost to Tarrington, and drive in a big sled the rest of the way." "Where can you get a sled?" asked Violet, always ready with a question.
But Russ and Rose hid in their hearts what they had heard about the ghost of Great Hedge. It was fully decided on the next day that the six little Bunkers and Daddy and Mother would go, shortly, with Grandpa Ford to his big estate in the country, just outside of Tarrington, in New York state. Russ and Rose listened carefully to see if they could hear any more about the ghost, but neither Mr.
She says if you keep wild creatures in captivity you ought to see after their wants, and of course she's quite right there." "I met you at luncheon at your aunt's house once " broke in Mr. Tarrington, pale but still resolute. "My aunt never lunches," said Clovis; "she belongs to the National Anti-Luncheon League, which is doing quite a lot of good work in a quiet, unobtrusive way.
Russ had feared that, as there were so many of them, some might be left behind after Tarrington was reached. And he wanted to get to Great Hedge as soon as he could, to begin to find out why there was something strange in or about the big house. "Well, now we can settle down for a long ride," said Mrs. Bunker, as she "counted noses," to make sure all her children were with her and her husband.
The six little Bunkers, with their father and mother, had taken the railroad train about nine o'clock in the morning, and they would reach Tarrington, in New York State, about five in the evening. "And one of my men will be at the depot to meet us with a carriage," said Grandpa Ford. "We'll drive over with horses, though I have an auto on my place. But I like horses better."
"I expect you don't know me with my moustache," said the new-comer; "I've only grown it during the last two months." "On the contrary," said Clovis, "the moustache is the only thing about you that seemed familiar to me. I felt certain that I had met it somewhere before." "My name is Tarrington," resumed the candidate for recognition.
The six little Bunkers had many friends and relatives, and perhaps I had better tell you the names of some of these last, so you will know them as we come to them in the stories. Mr. Bunker's father had died when he was six years old, and his mother, Mrs. Mary Bunker, had married a man named Ford. She and "Grandpa Ford" lived just outside the City of Tarrington, New York.
"Will we get to Tarrington?" asked Daddy Bunker. "Yes, I am pretty sure we shall," was the answer. The train did get to Tarrington, though not without some trouble and one or two more stops to clear snow out of the switches. And when Tarrington was reached it was quite late. It was dark, and cold, and snowing hard.
The defeated Tarrington had by this time retreated out of ear-shot, comforting himself as best he might with the reflection that a picnic which included the presence of Clovis might prove a doubtfully agreeable experience. "I shall certainly go in for a Parliamentary career," said Clovis to himself as he turned complacently to rejoin his aunt.
Word Of The Day