“Oh, well,” laughed Jim, “you can’t expect us to come without ices.”
“I suppose not.”
“Well, you expect us Saturday. Six of us anyway. I’ll bring the crowd over in my machine.”
“Oh, Jim! Have you a machine?”
“Better believe I have. And some day, when the weather is fine, I’ll take you riding.”
“Oh, goody! What kind is it?”
“A Ford.”
And Peggy hung up the receiver on the laugh that drifted to her over the wire.
She climbed to her room and sank silently down on the window seat.
All the recitations of Saturday morning dragged unaccountably whenever an Ambler House girl was called on.