“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” whispered Annis to Persis. “Oh, Persis, I am so happy. I wish mamma were here.”
“Isn’t she coming?”
A cloud passed over Annis’s face. “No; she couldn’t,” she said, wistfully. “But, oh, Persis, I wish she knew right away. I feel as if I ought to have gone to tell her the first thing.”
“You couldn’t very well,” replied Persis; “and it will be just as nice when she does know.”
“Is your grandmother coming?”
“She said she would try to be here, and mamma is surely coming. I think it was very nice to invite all the families instead of having it confined only to the young people, as Audrey wanted it, for after our mothers had taken so much pains to help us, I think it would have been mean to leave them out. It certainly does us credit, and the floor will be fine for dancing. You know we receive from four till seven and then dance till ten. May I have the pleasure, Miss Brown?”
Annis laughed assent.
“Oh, there is Lisa making signs to me,” said Persis. “I wonder what she wants. I will have to go and see.” And just then Connie Steuart joining them, Persis left Annis and sought her sister.
“Don’t stay with Annis all the time,” said Lisa, shortly. “You are on the music committee, and must tell the musicians not to play the same things over and over; they must mix up the melodies more. If the national airs don’t last, they must string them along.”
“Wait till they have finished ‘Dixie,’ and I’ll tell them to play a waltz or something.”