“No wonder,” said Burnett, “it’s easy for you to agree when you’re to be one of the dinner party.” “I don’t mind being left out,” said Clover contentedly. “I shall sit on the sofa and whisper to ‘the one behind.’ Whispering is an art that I have almost forgotten, but inspired by that pink—”
“Then I’ll tell Miss Watkins to dress for the going out,” said Janice, pointedly addressing herself to Jack.
“Yes, please do.”
The maid left the room and went upstairs. Aunt Mary was tossing about on her pillow.
“Well, what’s it to be?” she asked instantly.
“The storm has made it too wet to picnic,” replied Janice. “Mr. Denham wants to take you to drive and afterwards you and Mr. Mitchell and he are to dine—”
“And Burnett and Clover?” cried Aunt Mary in appalled interruption; “where are they goin’?”
“Really, I don’t know.”
“I don’t like the idea,” said Aunt Mary; “we’d ought to all be together. I never did approve of splittin’ up in small parties. Did Jack say anythin’ about my gettin’ another bonnet?”
“Yes, he thought that you would go to a milliner first.”