“Supper!” exclaimed Midget. “Why, we never have supper at Jinks Club! Just cookies and lemonade or plain water.”
“But this is to make up for your being so good and quiet,” said Mrs. Spencer, who stood in the doorway leading to the dining-room. “I’ve been told that Jinks Club usually necessitates a whole redecoration of the house, but I can’t see that you’ve done the least bit of damage here today. So here’s your reward.”
It was a very inviting-looking reward, for the dining-table was set prettily, and with Mrs. Spencer and Miss Hart at either end, the six children were soon seated in their places.
No crackers and lemonade this time! There were creamed oysters, and little sandwiches, and cocoa, and afterward a lovely snow pudding and tiny iced cakes and bonbons.
The feast was delicious, but somehow conversation seemed to flag.
Mrs. Spencer was charmingly hospitable, but she was so polite, that it made the children feel restrained.
“Do you miss your mother, Marjorie?” asked the hostess, in her conversational way, and Midget answered:
“Yes, Mrs. Spencer, very much.”
It sounded too short, but poor Midge couldn’t think of anything to add to the bald statement.
King helped her out. The Maynards always tried to help each other.