"I think I'd like you best."
"Oh, you wouldn't if you could see Ruth. You'd just call for the incense and get busy worshipping. Everybody does."
"Has she many suitors?"
"Flocks and herds of them, but she doesn't care. She's kind of booky and dreamy. I don't mean she doesn't play a stunning game of tennis, and drive a car, and all that. She was motor corps for a while, and just crazy to get over, but Dad wouldn't hear of it. She'll be on the Cape bye and bye, and you can judge for yourself—I'm going to stay to supper, did you know it? Your grandmother sent over and invited me yesterday."
"I didn't know she even remembered my birthday, and now—only think!"
"She said to me that you were as blue as indigo, and putting up a good old struggle not to be, and she wanted you to have something pleasant to remember. That festive sound from below stairs is Judidy taking her turn at the handle of the ice-cream freezer. Do you know what they make the ice-cream of here? Just pure Jersey cream and fruit juice. I never tasted anything like it in my life."
"Didn't I hear something outside the door? It sounded just as if somebody had crept up and then crept away again."
"I didn't hear anything." Peggy threw open the door like a flash. "It was someone. More birthday surprises." She held up the package that an unseen hand had deposited on the threshold. "Open it quick, Elizabeth."
"Why, it's the Kipling 'Birthday Book,'" Elizabeth said, "that red-leather edition that I've been crazy for. Who do you suppose could have got it for me?"
"Who is there left to give you a present?"