"Go 'way, Anne Leavitt, or there won't be no dinner! And this is your doin's, remember."
True to her promise, Nancy waited until the last dinner dish was dried; then she and B'lindy, very like culprits, tip-toed to Miss Milly's room. Aunt Milly wore a look of expectancy, which changed to wonder when she saw B'lindy. And one glance at Nancy's eager face told her that something very, very different was about to happen!
In a whisper Nancy commanded her to peep out and "just see what you'll see." And Miss Milly, in a flutter, did peep out, and saw Jonathan below, with a curiously contrived chair on wheels.
"It's for you—Webb made it," declared Nancy. "And you're not to get excited, because that might spoil everything. We're going to take you to the orchard!"
"Oh, Nancy!" Something caught in poor Miss Milly's throat.
"You must do just what I tell you. Take this shawl, though it's warmer out there than it is in here. I'm very strong and I shall carry you right down in my arms, and you must cling tight to my neck."
Poor Miss Milly commenced to tremble violently. "Nancy—I'm afraid! I—I—It's so long—maybe I'd better—maybe it isn't—right!"
"Oh, Aunt Milly, darling, how could it be wrong to be happy! Just try it! Think of the sunshine and the birds and the nice smells and all Jonathan's growing things! And B'lindy is going along, too, to help. Try it, Aunt Milly!"
Aunt Milly's eyes filled with tears, then she commenced to laugh softly. "Maybe it'll be the only time! I'd love—once more——" She let Nancy lift her slowly. "I'm too heavy, dear," she protested.
"Heavy——" thought Nancy. The pitifully frail form was as nothing in her clasp. "I haven't played forward on our basket-ball team for four years for nothing, Aunt Milly! March on, B'lindy. Now—very still."