"Five hundred dollars! One—two—three—four—five!"
But it was a season of holiday delight to Clorinda. The highest aspiration of her spinster soul was soon to be gratified—she would have a husband! No long engagement for her; she made up her mind to that on the moment. With that yellow bird once in the cage, she was not going to lose time in closing the door—not she!
She fed her intended to repletion with dainties, and it spoke marvels for his digestion that after all the dinner he had eaten he could make such havoc among the cake and preserves, still looking complacently forward to the prospect of broiled chicken. Crisp crullers disappeared like frostwork in his nimble jaws, he laid in a very unnecessary stock of tongue considering his natural advantages that way, made a dismal cavern of an immense fruitcake, and softened the effect with a whole mould of apricot jelly.
Dinah and Vic certainly kept him in countenance, but Clorinda rather trifled with the sweets, drinking so much strong tea in her pleasurable agitation, that to an observer given to ludicrous ideas, her jetty face would have suggested the idea of an old fashioned black teapot, with her pug nose for the chubby spout. Sally witnessed this dashing festival from behind the door, scraped up the jelly left in the glasses, stole bits of toast and muffins on their road to the table, and solaced her appetite on various fragments, till at last, growing bold and getting hungry, she crept to the pantry and purloined half a pumpkin pie. Until it had disappeared, like a train down a tunnel, she never remembered that Clo was sure to miss it in the morning, but reflected, in her fright, that it was possible to shut the cat up in the closet at bedtime, and so escape detection.
After tea Dolf brought out a pack of cards—a pack which had mysteriously disappeared from the library table some time before—and inducted the ladies into the mysteries of sundry little games, winning their pennies easily and cheating them without the slightest compunction.
That was a point beyond Clo, she could not lose her money even to Dolf, and vowed from that time out she would only play for pins.
"Gamblin's wicked," she said, virtuously.
So they played for pins, and Dolf allowed her to be the gainer. When she lost, Clo gave crooked ones in payment, and thus her high spirits were preserved untarnished.