“You see,” said Midget, who had sidled up to Miss Larkin, “we thought we disturbed your dinner party, when Mrs. Mortimer was here, so this is sort of to make up, you know.”
“You dear child!” exclaimed Miss Larkin. “You didn’t need to ‘make up,’ but this is the most wonderful birthday party I ever saw, and I can’t tell you how I appreciate it.”
“It’s a celebration,” explained Marjorie. “There are floats, you know, and altogether it’s a pageant, like they have in New York. Isn’t it grand! And the float that I dragged is your birthday cake. We’re going to take it in the house to open it.”
“And we don’t think you’re seventy-five years old,” broke in Kitty. “We know you’re not. But the candles stand for our ages, because we don’t want to be impolite to you.”
“Yes, that’s all right,” said Miss Hart, heading off any further allusions to the age of the lady who was receiving all this honor. “Now, let’s get the cake into the house. Where shall we put it?”
“Well,” said Midget, considering, “if we have the presents first, let’s open the cake before we go into the dining-room. So let’s take it into the living-room.”
“Right, oh!” exclaimed King, and he and Flip carried the big cake indoors and they all followed.
Marjorie and Kitty, as chief hostesses, each took Miss Larkin’s arm, and escorted her to a seat of honor.
“Now, Larky, Larky—harky, harky!” said King, with a flourish. “We hereby present you with this beautiful birthday cake, from your loving friends of the Jinks Club.”
King had discarded his fur coat and snowshoes, but he had grabbed a few garlands of paper flowers from Dorothy’s float, so that he would still look in festive array.