“Clara is going to wear a lace frock over pink silk, I heard her say,” Dorothy told them.
“I should think that would be very pretty,” declared Edna admiringly.
“I’d rather be dressed as we were at Margaret’s,” Jennie returned, “for then we could romp around and not care anything about what happened to our clothes.” Jennie hadn’t a spark of vanity and cared so little for dress as to be a surprise to the others.
“Of course that was nice, but I should like the pretty clothes, too,” rejoined Edna with honesty.
“They won’t do anything, either, but dance and sit around and look at each other,” continued Jennie. “I’d much rather play games like ‘Going to Jerusalem’ and ‘Forfeits’ and all those things we did at Margaret’s. I have all the dancing I want at dancing-school. No, I shall tell my mother I don’t want to go.” Jennie had made up her mind, and that was the end of the matter for her.
Therefore the others heard very little of what went on at Clara’s party. That it came off they knew, and there was much talk of what this one or that one wore, of how late they stayed and how many dances they had, but that was all, and the stay-at-homes decided that, after all they had not missed much, and if Clara’s intention was to rouse their envy she failed of her purpose.
At the next meeting of the club Nettie was voted in as an honorary member. “That seems to be about the only thing we can do,” Agnes announced, “and everyone seems to want her.” So the thing was done.
If there was one thing above another which Nettie did long for it was to become a member of the club whose wonderful doings she had heard so much of from Edna. The two had seen each other often, and now that the spring was nearing, rarely a Saturday came but that they met. It was Edna who took her the joyful news on Friday evening.
“I’ve something perfectly lovely to tell you,” she announced as soon as she was inside the door of the little house.
“What?” asked Nettie with a quick smile of interest.