CHAPTER XV.
A RIDE IN MAY At the breakfast table, the next morning, Grandma Maynard announced her intention of keeping her oldest grandchild with her as her own.
Marjorie's mother looked up with a frightened glance at this declaration, and she turned her face appealingly toward her husband.

But when she saw the twinkle in his eye, she knew at once there was not the slightest danger of her losing her oldest daughter in this way.
But, apparently by way of a joke, Mr.Maynard saw fit to pretend to approve of his mother's plan.
"Why, Mother," he said, "wouldn't that be fine! This big house needs a young person in it, and as we have four, we ought to be able to spare one.

You'll have grand times, Midget, living here, won't you ?" If Marjorie had not been so overcome at the very thought of leaving her own family, she would have realized that her father was only joking; but she had been so truly afraid that her grandmother's wishes might possibly be granted that she couldn't realize her father's intent.
"Oh, Father!" she cried, with a perfect wail of woe; and then, jumping from her seat at the table, she ran to her mother's side, and flung herself into her arms, where she gave way to one of her tumultuous crying spells.
Poor little Marjorie was not greatly to blame.

She had lain awake the night before, fearing that this thing might happen, and so was in no mood to appreciate a jest on the subject.
Unwilling to have such a commotion at the breakfast table, Mrs.Maynard rose, and with her arm round the sobbing child, drew her away to an adjoining room, where she reassured her fears, and told her that her father did not at all mean what he had said.
"Now, you see, Mother," Mr.Maynard went on, "how Midget feels about the matter.

Well, my feelings are exactly the same, only I choose a different mode of expression.