Marjories Vacation | Page 3

been parted, and
Mrs. Maynard felt a little sad at the thought of separation.
"Don't look like that, Mother," said Marjorie, "for if you do, I'll begin
to feel weepy, and I won't go at all."
"Oh, yes, you will, Miss Midge," cried her father; "you'll go, and you'll
stay all summer, and you'll have a perfectly beautiful time. And, then,
the first of September I'll come flying up there to get you, and bring
you home, and it'll be all over. Now, such a short vacation as that isn't
worth worrying about, is it?"
"No," put in Kingdon, "and last year when I went there wasn't any sad
good-by."
"That's because you're a boy," said his mother, smiling at him proudly;
"tearful good-bys are only for girls and women."
"Yes," said Mr. Maynard, "they enjoy them, you know. Now, I think it
is an occasion of rejoicing that Marjorie is to go to Grandma's and have
a happy, jolly vacation. We can all write letters to her, and she will
write a big budget of a family letter that we can all enjoy together."
"And Mopsy must wite me a little letter, all for my own sef," remarked
Rosy Posy, "'cause I like to get letters all to me."
Baby Rosamond was dressed up for the occasion in a very frilly white
frock, and being much impressed by the grandeur of staying up to

dinner, she had solemnly seated herself in state on a big sofa, holding
Boffin Bear in her arms. Her words, therefore, seemed to have more
weight than when she was her everyday roly- poly self, tumbling about
on the floor, and Marjorie at once promised that she should have some
letters all to herself.
When dinner was announced, Mr. Maynard, with Marjorie, led the
procession to the diningroom. They were followed by Mrs. Maynard
and Rosamond, and after them came Kingdon and Kitty.
Kitty was a golden-haired little girl, quite in contrast to Marjorie, who
had tangled masses of dark, curly hair and large, dark eyes. Her cheeks
were round and rosy, and her little white teeth could almost always be
seen, for merry Marjorie was laughing most of the time. To-night she
wore one of her prettiest white dresses, and her dark curls were
clustered at the top of her head into a big scarlet bow. The excitement
of the occasion made her cheeks red and her eyes bright, and Mrs.
Maynard looked at her pretty eldest daughter with a pardonable pride.
"Midge," she said, "there are just about a hundred things I ought to tell
you before you go to Grandma's, but if I were to tell you now, you
wouldn't remember one of them; so I have written them all down, and
you must take the list with you, and read it every morning so that you
may remember and obey the instructions."
Midge was one of the numerous nicknames by which Marjorie was
called. Her tumbling, curly hair, which was everlastingly escaping from
its ribbon, had gained for her the title of Mops or Mopsy. Midge and
Midget had clung to her from babyhood, because she was an active and
energetic child, and so quick of motion that she seemed to dart like a
midge from place to place. She never did anything slowly. Whether it
was an errand for her mother or a game of play, Midge always moved
rapidly. Her tasks were always done in half the time it took the other
children to do theirs; but in consequence of this haste, they were not
always done as well or as thoroughly as could be desired.
This, her mother often told her, was her besetting sin, and Marjorie
truly tried to correct it when she thought of it; but often she was too

busy with the occupation in hand to remember the good instructions
she had received.
"I'm glad you did that, Mother," she replied to her mother's remark, "for
I really haven't time to study the list now. But I'll promise to read it
over every morning at Grandma's, and honest and true, I'll try to be
good."
"Of course you will," said her father, heartily; "you'll be the best little
girl in the world, except the two you leave here behind you."
"Me's the bestest," calmly remarked Rosamond, who seemed especially
satisfied with herself that evening.
"You are," agreed King; "you look good enough to eat, to-night."
Rosamond beamed happily, for she was not unused to flattering
observations from the family. And, indeed, she was a delicious-
looking morsel of humanity, as she sat in her high chair, and tried her
best to "behave like a lady."
The table was decorated with June roses and daisies. The dinner
included Marjorie's favorite dishes, and the dessert was strawberries
and ice