“Of course it is; but it’s your joke, you know. Shall we tell Mother about it?”
“I’d rather not—till it’s over. It’s all right, you know; she wouldn’t disapprove, but she’d think we couldn’t do it.”
“It seems as if you ought to tell her.”
“THESE TWO YOUNG WOMEN SAT BEHIND ME IN THE STREET-CAR AND OVERHEARD MY CONVERSATION WITH A FRIEND”
“Oh, I’ll tell her that we’re going to play the joke. Here she comes now. Come in, Mother!”
Mrs. McGuire came into the library where the children were. “What is it, dear?” she said.
“Why, we’ve planned the joke for Grandpa,” said Betty, her eyes dancing with fun, “and it’s going to take a lot of acting. And, Mother, I don’t want to tell you about it till it’s all over. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, child; that is—I suppose, of course, it’s nothing wrong or impolite.”
“Oh, no; it’s all perfectly correct and proper. Dorothy and Jeanette and I are to do it, but Jack planned it all. And, Mother, we’ll want the big carriage on Friday afternoon.”