"Why," answered Florence, looking very wise as she threaded her needle, "we think it would be nice to have a whooping party."
Her mother laughed. "That's a queer sort of party. Do you mean to play Indian?"
"No, I mean we can have all the little girls and boys that are having the whooping-cough and that can't go to school or anywhere."
"And how many do you suppose that will be?"
"I don't know. I know four or five. May we have it, mamma?"
"Why, I don't know. I shall have to think about it. I suppose I should have to furnish lozenges and cough syrup for refreshments."
Florence laughed; it struck her as a very funny sort of refreshment, but she knew her mother was joking, although she added quite seriously, "We should have to be careful not to have anything very rich, you know. I think, after all, you'd best think of something else, for, a room full of children whooping and choking one after another, would be rather an unpleasant scene. Don't you think something else would be more amusing? You and Dimple put your thinking-caps on and we'll see what can be done to amuse you during the holidays."
Florence agreed to this and the two little girls proceeded with their work while they tried to think very hard, looking very sober as they stitched away. They were interrupted by the entrance of Florence's little sister Gertrude, who had been down town with her mother and who came in full of importance at having had presents provided for her to bestow at Christmas. "I've got sumpsin for ev'ybody," she said, "but I'm not going to tell."
Florence hugged her up close to her. "Won't you tell me?" she asked coaxingly.
"No," Gertrude shook her head, "I tan't tell."