The Little Washingtons’ Relatives
“OH, I’VE GOT IT ALL PLANNED OUT”—DECLARED GEORGE.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ RELATIVES
BY
LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1918, by
THE PLATT & NOURSE COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I—THE CITY COUSINS
“I heard the automobile horn, Martha!” shouted George Parke, jumping from the newel post of the front veranda steps, where he had perched himself to await the Philadelphia cousins who were expected that morning.
“I didn’t hear anything but Jim squealing ’cause his mammy won’t let him peek around the corner of the house,” scorned Martha Parke, his sister, a year and a half younger than George.
“Well, it’s time for them to be here, anyway,” argued George, with the usual finality of a boy past ten years of age.
“I wonder what they look like. Can you remember either one when we visited Philadelphia five years ago?” ventured Martha.
“All I can remember is Anne having yellow hair and her pinafore always twisted in her hands, and Jack going around with that little paper mat that he wove in kindergarten school his first day. Don’t you remember how he took it to bed with him, and all the red paper came off on his pillow during the night when he breathed on it, and his mother thought he was bleeding at the nose and mouth?” and George laughed at the dim recollections of five years ago.
“Oh, yes, I remember that! Wasn’t it funny when his nurse scrubbed and scrubbed to get the red dye from his face, and all the soap-suds got in his mouth so’s he yelled and fought!” laughed Martha also.
“And don’t you remember the day we were left alone to play while aunty took mother to the opera—we couldn’t go out ’cause it rained so hard, and we began sliding down the marble end of the bath tub? That was fun—just like winter when the snow is on the ground,” reminded Martha.
“Yes, and then two of us tried to slide down at the same time and got stuck in the bottom of the tub. Jack was bigger, so he pulled himself out, and in doing so managed to turn on the faucet. My, but wasn’t I wet that day!” roared George, slapping his knee.
“Oo-oh, but do you remember how Uncle Fred scolded when he saw the scratches our shoes had made in the porcelain tub?” b