"Now comes the pink ice cream," sang Ian, dancing a-tiptoe as they
reached the street; and there being but one good restaurant in town, on
the high street, next to the saddler's shop where the red goat harness
was still displayed, the party drove there, and the pink ice cream was
eaten, good and full measure thereof, while on their way out the coveted
goat harness found itself being taken from the window to be packed away
under the seat of the gig.
* * * * *
It was almost dinner time when father and I returned to-night, and the
boys were squeezed together in a chair on the piazza, close to Miss
Lavinia, while Martin sat near by on the balustrade. The boys were in a
great state of giggles, and kept clapping their hands to their mouths as
if they feared something would escape. I hurried upstairs, not wishing to
make dinner late, as I knew Martin expected to take the nine o'clock
train, just as father came in saying that Timothy had returned, and that
he found the horses in a wonderful sweat, and feared they were sick, as
they hadn't been out all day.
By this time we were in the hall and walking toward the dining room.
Martin stopped short, as if to say something, and then changed his mind,
while a bumping at the pantry door attracted the attention of us all.
Out came Ian, a portion of the goat harness on his head and shoulders,
followed by Richard, around whose neck the reins were fastened, and
between them they carried the great heavy silver tea-tray only used on
state occasions.
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