Marjorie's Busy Days Part 36

"Both!" declared Molly. "Whichever one it is, I like that one; don't you?"

"Yes, I s'pose so. But I like winter best. There's so much to do. Why, Molly, I'm busy every minute. Of course, school takes most of the time, so I have to crowd all the fun into the afternoons and Sat.u.r.days."

"Oh, is this your hill?" exclaimed Molly, as they reached their favorite coasting-ground. "What a little one! Why, the hills at home are twice as long as this."

"I know it," said Mopsy, apologetically; "but this is the longest one here. Won't it do?"

"Oh, yes," said Molly, who did not mean to be unpleasantly critical, but who was merely surprised. "But you have to be going up and down all the time."

"We do," agreed King. "But it's fun. And, anyway, you have to go up and down all the time if it's a longer hill, don't you?"

"So you do," admitted Molly, "but it seems different."

However, after a few journeys up and down, she declared the hill was a first-rate coaster, and she liked it better than a long one, because it was easier to walk up.

They all liked Molly. Gladys concluded she was a welcome addition to their crowd, and both Kingdon and d.i.c.k thought her a jolly girl.

She was daring,--sometimes a little too much so,--but she was good-natured, and very kind and pleasant.

"Don't you ever hitch on?" she asked, as they all trudged up hill.

"What's that mean?" asked Gladys.

"Why, hitch on behind sleighs. Or big wagon-sleds."

"With horses?"

"Yes, of course. It's lots of fun. Come on, let's try it."

Out to the road they went, and waited for a pa.s.sing sleigh. Soon Mr.

Abercrombie's turnout came by.

This gentleman was one of the richest men in Rockwell, and very dignified and exclusive. Indeed, he was a bit surly, and not very well liked by his fellow townsmen. But he had a fine sleigh and a magnificent pair of horses, which were driven by a coachman in a brave livery and fur cape.

"Please give us a hitch," called out Molly, as the glittering equipage drew near.

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Abercrombie, as he looked at the child.

Molly was always elf-like in appearance, but the wind had reddened her cheeks, and blown wisps of her straight black hair about her face, until she looked crazier than ever.

The big sleigh had stopped, and Mr. Abercrombie glared at the group of children.

"What did you say?" he demanded, and Molly repeated her request.

Marjorie was a little shocked at the performance, but she thought loyalty to her guest required that she should stand by her, so she stepped to Molly's side and took hold of her hand.

The two surprised boys were about to enter a protest, when Mr.

Abercrombie smiled a little grimly, and said:

"Yes, indeed. That's what I'm out for. Martin, fasten these sleds on behind somehow."

The obedient footman left his place, and, though the order must have been an unusual one, he showed no sign of surprise.

"Yes, sir," he said, touching his hat. "Beg pardon, sir, but what shall I fasten them to, sir?"

"I said fasten them to this sleigh! If there isn't any way to do it, invent one. Fasten one sled, and then that can hold the next one, all the way along. Blockhead!"

"Yes, sir; very good, sir." And, touching his hat again, the unperturbed footman went to work. How he did it, they never knew, for the sleigh had not been constructed for the purpose of "giving a hitch"

to children's sleds, but somehow the ingenious Martin attached a sled securely to the back of the big sleigh. Molly took her seat thereon, and then another sled was easily fastened to the back of hers. And so on, until all were arranged.

Then the footman calmly returned to his own place, the coachman touched up the horses, the bells jingled gaily, and they were off!

Such a ride as they had! It was ever so much more fun than riding in the sleigh, and though the boys, who were at the end of the line of sleds, fell off occasionally, they floundered on again, and were all right until they turned another sharp corner.

"Thank you, _very_ much, mister," said Molly, heartily, as they neared the Maynard home; "we're going to leave you now."

Again the sleigh stopped, the dignified footman came and released the sleds, and, after a chorus of thanks from the merry children, Mr.

Abercrombie drove away in his solitary splendor.

"You beat the Dutch, Molly!" cried King. "I never should have dreamed of asking Lord Abercrombie, as people call him, to give us a ride."

"I think he liked it as well as we did," said Molly.

"I think so, too," said Marjorie, "and I hope some day he'll take us again."

CHAPTER XVIII

THANKSGIVING DAY

The Thanksgiving Dinner was a jollification.

The Maynard children were always a merry crowd, but the added element of Molly's gaiety gave a new zest to the fun.

The pretty table decorations, planned for the expected guests, were modified better to suit the children's tastes, and when dinner was announced and they all went out to the dining-room, a general shout of applause was raised.

In the middle of the table was a large "horn of plenty," fas.h.i.+oned of gilded pasteboard. From its capacious mouth were tumbling oranges, apples, bananas, grapes, nuts, figs, and raisins. The horn itself was beautifully decorated, and seemed to be suspended from the chandelier above by red ribbons.

Also, red ribbons, starting from the horn itself, led to each person's plate, and at the end of each ribbon was a name-card.

Gleefully the children took their places, and laughed merrily at the funny little souvenirs that stood at their plates.

Kingdon had a jolly pig, made of a lemon, with wooden toothpicks stuck in for legs, a curly tail made of a bit of celery, and two black-headed pins for eyes.

Marjorie had a horse made of a carrot, which looked like a very frisky steed, indeed.