“I’m sure I don’t know and what’s more I don’t care,” replied Edna. “Do you care, Dorothy?”
“Oh, I don’t know; just a little, I think. See, they are going over and whispering to Molly Clark, and she is getting up and going over there. I wonder what it is all about.”
Edna wondered, too, but neither she nor Dorothy found out that day. The same thing went on the next day. One by one most of the girls whom Edna and Dorothy liked the best were seen to join the little company of whisperers, and whenever Clara Adams would pass the two friends she would give them a look as much as to say: Wouldn’t you like to know what we know?
“I think it is just horrid mean of them,” said Dorothy when the next day came and they were no nearer to knowing the secret than they had been in the beginning.
“I heard Molly say something about to-morrow afternoon,” said Edna. “They are all going to do something or go somewhere. I am going to tell sister, so I am.”
“And I’ll tell my sister. Maybe they know something about it, Edna.”
They lost no time in seeking out their sisters to whom they made known the state of affairs. “And they are getting hold of nearly all the nicest girls,” complained Edna. “Molly Clark, and Ruth Cutting and all those. They haven’t said anything to Margaret, for I asked her. She isn’t here to-day.”
“Have you any idea what they are going to do?” Dorothy asked her sister.
“I have an idea, but it may not be right.”
“Oh, tell us, do.” The two younger girls were very eager.