Sylvia said nothing. She was annoyed, for the dolls' house had been a favourite toy. Though she was now too old to care to play with it, she liked to keep its treasures intact, and feared Bab's and Daisy's small fingers might work havoc among the miniature furniture and dainty glass tea services. She had no brothers and sisters of her own to spoil her things, or interfere with any of her plans or games, no one, in fact, to consider except her all-important little self, and she was so accustomed to keep the schoolroom as her special kingdom that it put her out to be obliged to share it even for one afternoon. She helped, however, to take off the Carsons' hats and coats, to unbutton their boots, to tie Bab's hair ribbon, which had come off, and to fasten May's pinafore, then escorted her unwelcome visitors downstairs again with the best grace she could. It was not half so interesting to have tea in the dining-room with four children, she thought, as alone in the drawing-room with her mother, a privilege which, owing to Mrs. Lindsay's many social duties, she did not often get the chance to enjoy, and she wished with all her heart that either Mrs. Walton or the cabstand had not been on the telephone.
If Sylvia were an ungracious hostess, however, her small friends at any rate seemed thoroughly determined to enjoy themselves. They much appreciated the honey, the raisin buns, and the iced sponge cake, and were especially delighted with the crackers which Mrs. Lindsay brought out at the conclusion of the meal.
"Crackers, though it's not Christmas!" cried Effie in astonishment.
"Why not?" said Mrs. Lindsay. "They are as much fun now as in December, I think. Here are two for each of you, and you may take them upstairs to the schoolroom and pull them when you get there."
There was a general stampede for the stairs, the four guests racing up with great enthusiasm, while Sylvia followed leisurely behind, debating in her mind whether it would be possible to lose the key of the cupboard, and thus preserve her dolls' house from meddlesome hands.
"The crackers will keep them busy for a short time," she reflected, "and then I can just turn the key in the lock and hide it away behind the bookcase. I'll give them the picture puzzles and a box of bricks instead."
It is all very well, however, to make plans, but it is quite a different thing to carry them out. The young Carsons knew perfectly where the dolls' house was kept; they ran in front of Sylvia into the schoolroom, and, flinging their crackers on to a chair, had opened the cupboard and were begging her to lift down the coveted toy long before she had any opportunity of locking the door, so there was nothing for her to do but yield to their request, though she certainly felt decidedly cross. She placed the dolls' house on the floor in a corner of the room, and, having rescued one or two of the most fragile ornaments, left Bab and Daisy to amuse themselves and turned her attention to Effie and May. They were jolly, rollicking little girls of eight and nine, who liked to run about playing boisterous games much better than sitting quietly reading books. They had soon pulled their crackers and taken out the whistles and lockets which they contained, and now began to ask eagerly what they should do next.
"Can't we play 'Tig' on the landing?" said Effie.
"Or Tom Tiddler's Ground?" suggested May.
"There aren't enough of us," said Sylvia. "Besides, I don't expect Mother would like it. The last time we played there we broke the big Japanese jar, and Father was so angry about it. You haven't seen these puzzle maps. Wouldn't it be fun to try and fit them together?"