A trim maid in a neat cap stood waiting to assist the girls with coats and rubbers.
"They're doing it up brown," Sue whispered as Billy left the room. "They've engaged this maid along with the caterer. Just wait! I do hope they haven't forgotten that heavenly ice-cream like they had before. The kind with the nuts! Oh, girls; look! Isn't that perfectly killing?"
Sue pointed to a vase of flowers on Billy's dresser. They were exquisite pale yellow roses, about which were tied—as stiffly and properly as Billy would have tied his own necktie—two shades of ribbon, green and white, the colors of the North school.
"Well, it's perfectly dear of him, anyway," Sue said, as the girls shook with laughter. "Of course the bows are funny, but the boys have done the best they knew how, and it's a pretty compliment, I think."
A pretty compliment it was, elaborated upon in the sitting-room. Vases stood in every available corner and space, and the same bows ornamented each bouquet. The girls were eloquent in praise of them.
"Why didn't you try a four-in-hand on this one, Billy?" Sue asked, pointing to a carefully arranged effect of the "string-tie" variety. "Or a—what you call it—an Ascot! An Ascot would be stunning on those orchids."
A laugh went round the room in which Billy joined good naturedly.
"See what you fellows escape by not having a sister," he said, nodding toward McVickar and Billings. His tone was severe, but the loving look that shot from his eyes to the dimpled face close to his own belied the words. Any fellow would have been proud to have had such a sister. Billy appreciated the fact.
"Anyway, I didn't tie the bows," he added. "McVickar did it. 'Fess up, old man. He's been at it all day—sluffed his classes to tie the bunch."
It was Sue's turn to become embarrassed.