“Miss Keene will have enough to do at the cake-table,” Mrs. Smithe replied. “I think I’ll appoint Mrs. Hoyt, Mrs. Crowler, Mrs. Henderson, and Mrs. Lowell.”
“There’s never but three on that committee,” snapped Miss Sharp. “You’ll have to take off one.”
“Dear me!” responded Mrs. Smithe, in dismay; “I think you must be mistaken.”
But Miss Sharp persisted, and the president, driven into a corner, was forced to propose that one of the ladies named should resign. Nobody seemed willing to do this, however, and it was at length decided that some one of the four should regard herself as a substitute, to act in case one of the others could not serve. The president could not, however, bring herself to specify which should be the substitute, and was greatly relieved when the conversation was turned by Mrs. Henderson’s remarking,—
“Speaking of substitutes reminds me. Did you know that you could make mince-pies without meat? My niece from Bangor—”
[The talk of the next fifteen minutes is omitted, as being irrelevant, relating exclusively to cooking. At the expiration of that time, the business of the occasion was accidentally reintroduced by an allusion on the part of Mrs. Crowler to some delicious chocolate macaroons which she had eaten at a fair in East Machias.]
“We really must have some more committees,” the president said, recovering herself with a start. “Will somebody make a motion?”
“I don’t think Friday is a good day for a fair, any way,” Mrs. Lowell now remarked, reflectively. “The 25th is Friday.”
“Oh, I never thought of that,” exclaimed half a dozen ladies, in dismay. “We should be all tired out for baking-day.”
“I don’t know what we can do,” the president said, in despairing accents,—“there seem to be so many days, and only one fair; and we’ve had so many dates proposed. We shall have to unvote something.”