This they did, and the result was, that, as the animals were so interesting, after they had seen them all it was too late to go to the shops.
"Whew! I'd no idea it was so late," said Uncle Ted, looking at his watch; "but never mind.

We'll go home now, and I'll telegraph early in the morning, and the tent and lanterns can be sent over at once, and we can easily get them put up in time." When they reached home they found Aunt Grace entertaining some friends who had come to spend the day.

They were delightful people, and Aunt Grace had found them so absorbing that she had entirely forgotten to send for an assistant to prepare dainties for the party.
But nobody seemed to mind, and Patty concluded it was not her place to comment on the way things were going, at least, not to the Hurly-Burly people themselves.
But when she wrote that night to her father, she said: "I'm glad you didn't describe my aunts to me, but let me discover their traits for myself.

For, really, I never would have believed a family _could_ act like the Barlows.

They are out of proportion _every_ way, but, after all, I can't help loving them, for they are such dear, kind people, and they _mean_ to do right, only they never do anything." But as the next day was Thursday, and some things _had_ to be done, everybody began to hustle and bustle and fly around generally.
Uncle Ted sent to New York by a special messenger for a tent, and a lot of lanterns and gay bunting, and succeeded in getting them soon after noon.
Then he and Bob and old Dil put the tent up, and hung the lanterns along the veranda and among the trees.
Nan drove all around the country trying to find a cook to assist Hopalong, but as none was to be found, Aunt Grace had to go down to the kitchen and make some of the cakes herself.
Nan and Bumble made sandwiches and squeezed lemons, and somehow the time slipped away until it was four o'clock, and the house was not yet decorated and the ice cream hadn't arrived from New York.