Domestic fiction; Families -- Juvenile fiction; Historical fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction; Sisters -- Juvenile fiction
“No,” said Dulcie, though her face had fallen at the news. “You and
Molly must go, of course; Daisy and I went last year.”
Maud gave a little skip of delight, but Molly looked grave.
“I hate doing things without you and Daisy,” she said. “Don’t you think
Grandma may change her mind and let us all go?”
“Grandma never changes her mind,” affirmed Dulcie, which was, indeed,
quite true.
Mrs. Winslow told them all of the invitation, and added that she would
take two of the little girls with her, but that as to taking four
children out of one household, the idea was not to be considered for a
moment.
“Mrs. Livingston Leroy seems to be a very kind lady,” ventured Molly.
“Do you think she would mind very much if we all went?”
“I should mind,” returned Grandma, grimly, “and that is more to the
point. You may decide among yourselves which are to go, and which
remain at home.”
There was nothing more to be said, and the next morning, soon after
breakfast, Dulcie and Daisy watched their two younger sisters depart
for the scene of festivities, accompanied by those two stern guardians,
Grandma and Aunt Kate.
“What shall we do this morning?” inquired Dulcie, turning away from the
parlor window with a sigh. “The nursery is being cleaned, so we can’t
go up there. Shall we stay here or go out on the sidewalk?”
“I don’t care,” said Daisy, listlessly. “Dulcie, have you any idea how
long it takes for a letter to go to Chicago?”
Dulcie shook her head.
“I think it must take some time,” she said, “but not nearly so long
as it takes one to go to California. I wrote to Uncle Stephen nearly
a month ago, and I haven’t had any answer yet. I’m sure he’ll answer,
because I asked him that very important question, about whether he’s
really going to marry Miss Leslie. I asked him please to answer as soon
as possible, because if he is going to marry her, we wanted to begin
making the wedding presents.”
“Don’t letters sometimes get lost?” Daisy inquired, anxiously.
“I suppose they do, but not often. I heard that minister friend of Aunt
Kate’s say the United States Mail was a very remarkable institution. I
think it would be rather nice to go out for a while. We might see some
of the soldiers marching up-town to join in the parade.”
Daisy acquiesced languidly, and, having procured their hats, the two
little girls went out to walk slowly up and down the block. It was a
very hot morning, and after half an hour of this monotonous exercise,
even Dulcie’s spirits began to flag.
“I guess we may as well go in,” she decided. “All the soldiers must be
in the procession by this time, and I’d rather read than stay out here
any longer. I got a very interesting book from the library yesterday.
It’s called ‘Violet, or Through Cross to Crown.’ I’ll read it aloud to
you if you like.”
“All right,” said Daisy, and accordingly they turned their steps in a
homeward direction.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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