"We don't want to; we'd rather go to the Cottage," sung out Alan. Nora
had to hush him up.
Hilliard was just as nice as he could be, putting Betty into the
carriage, and looking after her things,--I hadn't thought he could be so
polite; but Betty was very cool and snippy, and the last sight I got of
her, as the carriage turned the corner, she was sitting bolt upright,
looking as stiff as a poker. I felt sorry for Betty, and I felt sorry
for the Ervengs, too,--at least for Hilliard. I can't think why Betty
doesn't like him better.
We were awfully lonely and unsettled for a few days,--it seemed so
queer to have Nora in Nannie's place, and Phil at the head of the
table; to hear Nora giving orders, and for Phil to have to see to
shutting up the house nights. Somehow it made us feel grown-up,--it was
such a responsibility, you know; and at first we were all very quiet,
and so polite to one another that nurse declared she "wouldn't 'a'
known we was the same fam'ly." Felix and Phil were as dignified as
could be, and the little ones went to bed without a murmur, and obeyed
Nora like so many lambs. But it didn't last,--it couldn't, you know,
for we weren't really happy, acting that way; and pretty soon we began
to be just as we usually were,--only a little more so, as we boys say.
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