Excerpt
THE WANDERER
Blue Bonnet put her head out of the car window for the hundredth time that hour, and drew it back with a sigh of utter exasperation.
"Uncle Cliff," she declared impatiently, "if The Wanderer doesn't move a little faster I'll simply have to get out and push!"
"Better blame the engine, Honey," said Uncle Cliff in his slow, soothing way. "The Wanderer is doing her best. Might as well blame the wagon for not making the horses gallop!"
"I know," she confessed. "But it seems as if we'd never get to Woodford. This is the longest-seeming journey I ever took—even if it is in a private car." Then, fearing to appear inappreciative, she added quickly: "But I do think it is mighty good of Mr. Maldon to let us take his very own car. I can just see the We are Sevens' eyes pop right out when they see this style of travelling." Blue Bonnet's own eyes roamed over the luxurious interior of The Wanderer, dwelling with approval on the big, swinging easy chairs, the book-case cunningly set in just over a writing-desk, the buffet shining with cut glass and silver, and the thousand and one details that made the car a veritable palace on wheels.
Blue Bonnet had been spending a few days in New York with her uncle, who had insisted that she should have a little "lark" after her long months in school. Now, in a private car belonging to one of Uncle Cliff's friends, they were on their way back to Woodford, there to gather up Grandmother Clyde, Alec Trent, and the other six of Blue Bonnet's "We are Seven" Club, and bear them off to Texas for the summer.
"I reckon Sarah Blake and Kitty Clark aren't very used to travelling?" suggested Uncle Cliff, more to draw out Blue Bonnet than with any consuming desire for information.
"Used to travelling! Why, Uncle Cliff—" Blue Bonnet shook her head emphatically—"not one of the other We are Sevens has ever so much as seen the inside of a Pullman in all her life!"
Mr. Ashe hid a smile under his moustache. The fact that Blue Bonnet's own introduction to a Pullman car had occurred just nine months before, seemed to have escaped the young lady's mind.
"Well, well," ejaculated Blue Bonnet's uncle, "they've some experiences ahead of them, to be sure!"
"Oh, Uncle,"—Blue Bonnet was struck with a sudden fear,—"do you suppose they will all be ready to go? We're two whole days earlier than we said we'd be—"
"They'll be ready, don't you worry. Your grandmother is not one of the unprepared sort, and the girls don't need much of a wardrobe for the ranch. Besides, I wired them explicit directions—to meet The Wanderer and be ready to come aboard immediately. We shall have only a few minutes in Woodford."
Blue Bonnet settled back in her red velvet reclining chair and shut her eyes. Slowly a smile wreathed her lips.
"What's the joke, Honey?"
Blue Bonnet looked up with dancing eyes. "Benita!" she laughed. "Won't she be just—petrified, when she sees seven girls instead of one? And can't you imagine the boys—"
"Benita had better not get petrified this summer," interrupted Uncle Cliff....