“Then she’s deceitful,” said Marjorie, “and that’s a horrid thing to be.”
“’Most always it is,” argued patient Kitty; “but it’s sometimes ’scusable when you do it to be polite. She couldn’t very well tell us she hated our greens and roses—but I know she did.”
“I know it, too,” said King, gloomily. “We had all that trouble for nothing.”
“Well,” said Marjorie, after thinking a moment; “even if she didn’t like the welcome and garlands, she must have ’preciated the trouble we took, and she must have understood that we meant to please her.”
“’Course she did,” said Kitty, “and that’s why she seemed pleased about it. Now, I think, we’d better go up and tell her that if she wants to, she can have all that stuff carted out.”
“Oh, Kit!” cried Midge, reproachfully. “It’s so pretty, and we worked so hard over it.”
“I know it, Mops, but if she doesn’t want it there, it’s a shame for her to have to have it.”
“You’re right, old Kitsie,” said King; “you’re right quite sometimes often. Mops, she is right. Now let’s go up and inform the Larky lady—I mean Larkin lady, that we won’t feel hurt if she makes a bonfire of our decorations in her honor.”
“I shall,” said Marjorie, pouting a little.
“Oh, pshaw, Mops; don’t be a silly. A nice hostess you are, if you make a guest sleep in a jungle, when she likes a plain, bare room.”