"And if you want such things," Azalea went on, losing her diffidence, "I can get a lot of Indian things from home,—baskets,—you know,—and leather, and beaded things."
"Fine, Zaly!" and Elise smiled at her. "We do want those,—real ones,—they always sell."
They went on planning, all working in harmony, and each full of suggestions, which the others approved or criticised, in frank, friendly fashion.
Then Janet appeared to call Azalea to the telephone, and the girl looked up, surprised. She blushed scarlet, and hurried from the room.
"Who could have called her?" said Elise; "she doesn't know any one you don't know,—does she, Patty?"
"No; but she knows lots of our friends. Somebody is probably asking her to go somewhere."
None of them tried to listen, but the telephone was in the next room and Azalea's voice had a peculiar carrying quality that made it difficult not to overhear snatches of her conversation.
"No," she exclaimed, positively, "I can't do it! I really can't! I'm sorry it didn't go right, but I can't do it again! It's impossible!"
A pause, and then, again, "No, I simply can't! Don't ask me—yes, of course,—I know,—but, you see, they said,—oh, I can't tell you now,—I'll write,—well, yes, I'll do that!—Oh, of course, I'll be there—but the—the other one—no, no, no!"
These remarks were at long intervals and disconnected, but they were clearly heard by the three in the next room, and though no one mentioned it, each thought it a strange conversation for Azalea to take part in.