“Nope,” said Katherine’s voice from behind a pillow. “I’m up at gym having a—c-c—brr-r—” the pillow was made to shiver—“a cold shower!”
“Come on home, Kat, you wretch,” laughed Peggy; “I’ve had a present from Mr. Huntington.”
“Who,” demanded Gertie, impertinently, “is Mr. Huntington?—and why didn’t you have him to our house dance?”
Peggy and Katherine laughed.
“He’s an old man, silly,—and one of my very best friends; in fact, he sent me to college, and his grandson is Jim that you all met, because I did have him to the house dance.”
“Well, then,” pursued Gertie still inquisitive, “what was his present?”
“Something good?” inquired Myra, sliding to the edge of her seat.
“If it is, we’re all coming,” smiled Gertie graciously.
“Well,” Peggy admitted, “it’s—salted almonds. Five pounds of them—I suppose———”
But she was the last one in the room. The group had fled with a rushing sound down the hall and were already murmuring their appreciation in Suite 22.