“We haven’t gone very far along with the kisses,” she said. “At this rate we’ll never get to the forty-sixth.” She put her arms around Miss Rindy and kissed her. “How did you like your party? How do you feel now that it is over?”
“I feel ten years younger, though I’m wondering what the tongues will say when they go clacking to-morrow.”
“What could they say?”
“They could say vanity, extravagance, foolishness. Why couldn’t they spend their money on something sensible when they have so little of it? Why did old Rindy Crump doll herself up like a sixteen-year-old? Hadn’t she any better sense?”
“Now, Cousin Rindy!” Ellen was really hurt. “I don’t see why you should be so suspicious. I don’t believe there was a person here who would say or even think such things.”
“Well, maybe not. The fact of the matter is, Ellen, that I have enjoyed myself so greatly that I feel sort of queer about it, as if I hadn’t any right to. I told you that I had never had a party in all my life, but I didn’t tell you that it was something I always longed for but never felt that I should afford. But when you took the matter into your own hands I was weak enough not to protest overmuch.”
“You dear thing,” said Ellen, giving her a close hug. “If you could have heard how everybody rejoiced when I told them you were to have a party, you could never think they disapproved. I never saw more enthusiasm, nor such kind friends.”
“What about Sophy Bennett and Bessie Todd?”
“Poor Miss Bennett came out into the kitchen to see her cake cut, and was so mortified because it was so heavy no one could think of eating it. I felt really sorry for her. As for Mrs. Todd, well, things might have fallen flatter than the cake if she hadn’t come to the rescue.” Then Ellen told of the ice-cream episode, ending up with: “And no one was the wiser. Indeed I think the two kinds of sauce were a great addition.”
“I think so myself. Wasn’t it just like that trifling Lucilena to leave out something? It’s a mercy it wasn’t sugar. I suppose she was of some use, however.”