“What good, indeed!” put in Flo, sarcastically, as she elbowed her way to the very middle of the fire. “But pray do not make yourselves unhappy about the expense of the supper, my dear young friends. It will not concern us. I heard Mrs. Harper telling mademoiselle that they did not intend to have the girls in on this occasion, gobbling up the ices and confectionery, like so many locusts.”
“I did not know that locusts went in for confectionery,” remarked Isabella, with a sniff of scorn.
“This marvellous discovery in natural history was Mrs. Harper’s, not mine,” said Flo, with swelling dignity. “However, the meaning is plain. We are not to sup. We are to ’ave”—mimicking her schoolfellow—“buns and egg-sandwiches ’anded round in the schoolroom, whilst the company are carousing downstairs.”
The “take-off” was entirely lost on Isabella, who was far too much impressed with the intelligence to be alive to Flo’s impertinence. A dead silence followed this disagreeable announcement, which was at length broken by Miss Jones, who, sliding from the top of the screen in the excitement of the moment, shrilly exclaimed—
“Well, I declare! I won’t stand it! I shall tell Mrs. H. so to her face. Why, our parents pay for the supper! Locusts, indeed! My father pays handsomely for extras and everything, breaking-up party and all; and to be put off with a bun! I think I see myself—I just do! Why”—warming with her theme—“supper is ’alf the fun! There are the crackers and mottoes and jokes, and every one taken down by a gentleman, arm-in-arm. I’ll go to supper for one, and stay up to the last. I did not get my new pink dress just to dance with girls, and eat an egg sandwich and go to bed. Rather not. Leave it to me, girls”—looking round on her companions with an air of friendly encouragement—“I shall have a word with Miss Selina. We shall all go to supper, or Isabella Jones will know the reason why.”
“Oh, you dear, good Izzy!” cried two voices simultaneously. And one continued, “You know you can do anything with Snappy, and if you ask, it will be all right. But about partners, I am afraid they will be few and far between; Snappy and Miss Harper keep the best for themselves and their friends. Anything is good enough for the girls. Last time I was thankful to dance all night with a little boy in a jacket; however, it was a shade better than sitting-out.”
“There are the Wolfertons,” observed Flo, “and they generally bring two or three men. Last year there was Mr. Wynne, who was tremendously struck with Madeline.” Then raising her voice, “Maddie, do you remember Mr. Wynne? Come over here, and let us see if you are blushing.”
“Mr. Wynne, Fred Wolferton’s friend!” cried Isabella, with great animation. “He is a barrister, and, of course, without a penny to jingle on a milestone—poor as Job. My father don’t approve of my getting to know these paupers. You know I’m an heiress”—giggling—“and father says——”
“Oh never mind your father!” broke in Flo, rudely. “You need not be alarmed; Mr. Wynne won’t look at you as long as Madeline is in the room—and perhaps he may not come. Who else are invited—the Sangsters, the Wallers, the Rays?”
“All common sort of people,” remarked the grand-daughter of a baron. “Very worthy in their way, and well enough for a girls’ school breaking-up; but I should not dream of knowing them at home, or of bowing if I met them anywhere;” and she threw up her chin, and looked about her superciliously.