She could not believe her eyes! Had Delight sold it all when she wasn’t looking? No, the dainty glasses that she had set on the tray herself had not been used. Where could the orangeade be? She had seen Thomas pour it in, not twenty minutes before, and now it was all gone! A few bits of orange and a few cherries lay in the bottom of the big ice bowl, but not enough orangeade to fill one glass.
Greatly embarrassed, Marjorie turned to her would-be customers, and asked them to wait a moment.
“Well, you are doing a rushing business,” remarked the young man who had ordered the orangeade. “Used up all that tank full already! Why, it must hold two gallons.”
Marjorie beckoned across the room for King to come to her assistance.
“The orangeade’s all gone,” she whispered to him. “Won’t you get the pail from that cupboard where Thomas put it, and pour out some more?”
“Sure,” said her brother; “how’d you sell it so quick?”
“I didn’t sell it; I don’t know who did. But never mind, get some more—quick.”
“All right,” said King, and in a few moments he brought the big pail and poured half its contents into the ice-bowl.
Meantime, Marjorie, turning to the guests, asked them to be patient a moment, and then she would serve them.
As King walked away with the pail, Midge again took up her ladle.