Rebecca was thoroughly shocked. “My aunt would never hear of such a proceeding,” she affirmed. “Oh, Ruth Fielding! I want to go with you; but, of course, there must be some older woman with us.”
“Of course—I presume so,” sighed Ruth. “I hadn’t thought that far.”
“Whom shall we ask?” demanded Helen. “Mrs. Murchiston won’t go. She’s struck. She says she is too old to go off with any harum-scarum crowd of school girls again.”
“I like that!” exclaimed Jennie, in a tone that showed she did not like it at all. “We have got past the hobbledehoy age, I should hope.”
Miss Comstock, the senior at their table, had become interested in the affair, and she suggested pleasantly:
“We Ardmores often try to get the unattached members of the faculty to fill the breach in such events as this. Try Miss Cullam.”
“Oh, dear me!” muttered Helen.
Ruth said briskly, “Miss Cullam is just the person. Do you suppose she has her summer free, Miss Comstock?”
“She was saying only last evening that she had made no plans.”
“She shall make ’em at once,” declared Ruth, jumping up and leaving her breakfast. “Excuse me, Miss Comstock. I am going to find Miss Cullam, instantly.”