"It must be fun to be able to have company, and do it up in such splendid style as Mrs. Lang does," said Jean a little enviously, as she pulled out the bunch of pink clover she had worn at her belt.
"It was lovely, wasn't it?" assented Molly. "Mrs. Lang doesn't do it often, but when she does have a party, it is always perfect."
"After all," said Katharine, "it's all from the outside, somehow. I don't know whether you understand what I mean, but I know, myself."
"I'm glad you do, Kit," said her sister disrespectfully; "for it's certain that nobody else does. Remember that we are young, and explain yourself a little."
"I did really mean something, Jessie," said Katharine. "With Mrs. Lang, it seems as if she set the day and gave her orders to the servants, and that's all there was about it. Of course she entertains charmingly, and all that; but it makes me feel, all the time, as if she did it to pay her debts, and not because she likes to have us there. When we go to—well, to Polly's, for instance, I. never think of that, for Mrs. Adams always acts as if she enjoyed us as much as we enjoy being there."
"She does," answered Polly, with conviction. "She says she never half grew up, for she likes young people now better than she does those of her own age."
"It must be horrid to have to give parties, whether you want to or not, just because somebody else has invited you," remarked Molly.
"That's the way they all do in society, though," said Jessie, with a knowing air.
"Well, if that's society, then. I don't want any of it," said Polly ungratefully, while she ran her fingers through her hair and stood it wildly on end. "I just want my friends, and I want them whenever I feel like it; but I don't care anything about having a crowd of people round in the way, just because it's fashionable, when I don't, care a snap for them. If I ever grow up and come out, as they call it, I'm going to like my friends for themselves, and not for their clothes and their parties and their good dinners. I can buy those at a hotel, if I get hungry."
"And when hotels fail, there is always the poorhouse," suggested Jean. "But, girls, do you ever want to be very, very rich, just for a little while?"