of mincing out the front door.
Mark and Katharine took the stairs three at a time. Martha used the banister. But in the lower hall Miss Bick leaped forth and barred the way.
"No, you don't!" she said. "Not a soul leaves this house until the table's set for lunch!"
There was nothing the children could do about this, and nothing that they felt prepared to say. They didn't even point out that Jane had already left. As Katharine said afterwards, the way Jane was acting, right then she probably didn't
have
a soul!
But never was table set with such wild abandon, never did silver fly through the air with such great ease as it then flew. Hardly more than one precious minute had been wasted in idle drudgery before Mark and Katharine and Martha rushed out the front door and down the steps onto the sidewalk, and stood scanning the offing in all directions.
Far down Maplewood Avenue they could just make out a genteel figure in Jane's dress, picking its way along and toeing out in a way that the real Jane would have scorned to be seen doing in public. As they watched, the figure turned to the right, into Virginia Street.
And as they started to dash after it, a car drove up before the house, and Mr. Smith got out and held the door open for their mother.
"Company for lunch!" tl^eir mother called, blushing pink and looking embarrassed and pretty. "Where's Jane?"
The three children looked at each other and then quickly looked away again.
"We don't know,
exactly
," said Katharine.
"We think she's visiting somebody over on Virginia Street," said Mark, hoping that he spoke the truth, and that She (who was all that was left of Jane) had not strayed farther.
"Well, go and get her," said their mother, taking some interesting-looking packages from the car. "This is a party."
The three children looked at the ground, hopelessly.
"Or wait," their mother went on, not noticing. "You all go in the car and pick her up; that'll be quicker. I'll be breaking the news to Miss Bick about the party." And she started toward the house, her arms loaded with packages.
Mark and Katharine and Martha waited till she was safely inside. Then they turned to Mr. Smith and all started to speak at once. Then they stopped and looked at each other again.
"Shall we tell him?" Katharine asked.
"Yes." Mark nodded decisively. "There comes a time in the affairs of men, and this is it."
"I
said
we ought to, all along," said Martha. "I said he'd know what to do. This'll prove it."
And she and Mark and Katharine all piled into the front seat of the car and began telling Mr. Smith about the dread events of the morning. They didn't go into the reason for Jane's upset, though, or the way she felt about stepfathers, out of consideration for his feelings.
And Mr. Smith didn't waste time in unnecessary questions. ("Which proves," said Mark to Katharine, afterward, "that he would make an ideal step, and not Murdstone at all!") He started the motor, and the car shot down Maplewood and turned into Virginia Street.
She-who-was-no-longer-Jane was no longer to be seen.
"She must be in this block somewhere," said Katharine. "She hasn't had time to walk any farther."
"What do we do now?" said Martha.
"The question is moot," said Mark. "She could be in any one of these houses."
"We could holler 'Fire!' and everyone would come running out," suggested Katharine.
"Let's not have any more fires or running." Martha shuddered, remembering certain past experiences. "Let's knock at all the doors and ask them if they want to subscribe to the
Literary Digest.
"
"That's no good," said Mark, who had done this one summer to try to earn spending money. "All they ever say is 'No,' and shut the door."
Martha turned to Mr. Smith. "It's up to you," she said trustingly.
Mr. Smith looked pleased and touched. He also looked a little nervous, as though he were hoping he might live up to their trust. He cleared his throat.
"Well," he said, "first of all, does any of these houses look like the
Mark and Katharine took the stairs three at a time. Martha used the banister. But in the lower hall Miss Bick leaped forth and barred the way.
"No, you don't!" she said. "Not a soul leaves this house until the table's set for lunch!"
There was nothing the children could do about this, and nothing that they felt prepared to say. They didn't even point out that Jane had already left. As Katharine said afterwards, the way Jane was acting, right then she probably didn't
have
a soul!
But never was table set with such wild abandon, never did silver fly through the air with such great ease as it then flew. Hardly more than one precious minute had been wasted in idle drudgery before Mark and Katharine and Martha rushed out the front door and down the steps onto the sidewalk, and stood scanning the offing in all directions.
Far down Maplewood Avenue they could just make out a genteel figure in Jane's dress, picking its way along and toeing out in a way that the real Jane would have scorned to be seen doing in public. As they watched, the figure turned to the right, into Virginia Street.
And as they started to dash after it, a car drove up before the house, and Mr. Smith got out and held the door open for their mother.
"Company for lunch!" tl^eir mother called, blushing pink and looking embarrassed and pretty. "Where's Jane?"
The three children looked at each other and then quickly looked away again.
"We don't know,
exactly
," said Katharine.
"We think she's visiting somebody over on Virginia Street," said Mark, hoping that he spoke the truth, and that She (who was all that was left of Jane) had not strayed farther.
"Well, go and get her," said their mother, taking some interesting-looking packages from the car. "This is a party."
The three children looked at the ground, hopelessly.
"Or wait," their mother went on, not noticing. "You all go in the car and pick her up; that'll be quicker. I'll be breaking the news to Miss Bick about the party." And she started toward the house, her arms loaded with packages.
Mark and Katharine and Martha waited till she was safely inside. Then they turned to Mr. Smith and all started to speak at once. Then they stopped and looked at each other again.
"Shall we tell him?" Katharine asked.
"Yes." Mark nodded decisively. "There comes a time in the affairs of men, and this is it."
"I
said
we ought to, all along," said Martha. "I said he'd know what to do. This'll prove it."
And she and Mark and Katharine all piled into the front seat of the car and began telling Mr. Smith about the dread events of the morning. They didn't go into the reason for Jane's upset, though, or the way she felt about stepfathers, out of consideration for his feelings.
And Mr. Smith didn't waste time in unnecessary questions. ("Which proves," said Mark to Katharine, afterward, "that he would make an ideal step, and not Murdstone at all!") He started the motor, and the car shot down Maplewood and turned into Virginia Street.
She-who-was-no-longer-Jane was no longer to be seen.
"She must be in this block somewhere," said Katharine. "She hasn't had time to walk any farther."
"What do we do now?" said Martha.
"The question is moot," said Mark. "She could be in any one of these houses."
"We could holler 'Fire!' and everyone would come running out," suggested Katharine.
"Let's not have any more fires or running." Martha shuddered, remembering certain past experiences. "Let's knock at all the doors and ask them if they want to subscribe to the
Literary Digest.
"
"That's no good," said Mark, who had done this one summer to try to earn spending money. "All they ever say is 'No,' and shut the door."
Martha turned to Mr. Smith. "It's up to you," she said trustingly.
Mr. Smith looked pleased and touched. He also looked a little nervous, as though he were hoping he might live up to their trust. He cleared his throat.
"Well," he said, "first of all, does any of these houses look like the
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