“I don’t believe they’d do that. Perhaps Adèle saved it for me. Well, we’ll look around when we get home, but don’t say anything about it.”
But when they reached the house, neither Jim nor Patty could find the blue letter. Adèle said she had not seen it, and Patty insisted that no one else should be questioned. Privately, she thought that Hal Ferris had received it by mistake from baby May, and had kept it, because he, too, knew Bill’s handwriting, and because,—well, of course, it was foolish, she knew,—but Hal had said he was jealous of any other man, and he might have suppressed or destroyed Bill’s card for that reason. She felt sure it was not a letter, but merely a Christmas card. However, she wanted it, but she wanted to ask Hal for it herself, instead of letting the Kenerleys ask him.
“Dinner will be at two o’clock,” Adèle made announcement. “It’s considered the proper thing to eat in the middle of the day on a holiday, though why, I never could quite understand.”
“Why, of course, the reason is, so the children can eat once in a while,” suggested her brother.
“Baby can’t come to the table. She’s too little, and her table manners are informal, to say the least. However, the tradition still holds, so dinner’s at two o’clock, and you may as well all go and get dressed, for it’s after one, now. There’ll be a few extra guests, so you girls will have somebody to dress up for.”
“I like that,” said Roger; “as if we boys weren’t enough for any girls to dress up for!”
“But you’ve seen all our pretty frocks,” laughed Patty. “It’s only strangers we can hope to impress with them now. I shall wear my most captivating gown, if Mr. Collins is coming. Is he, Adèle?”
“Yes, and Mr. Hoyt, too; and two more girls. Skip along, now, and don’t dawdle.”
But Patty dawdled on the staircase till Ferris came along, and then she spoke to him in a low tone. “Chub, you didn’t see a stray letter of mine this morning, did you?”