After a pleasant tea hour, the girls went again to their rooms, ostensibly to rest before dinner, but really to have what Patty called a kimono party.
All in their pretty négligées, they gathered in Adèle’s room and talked as rapidly and interruptingly as any four girls can.
“Do you hear from Bill Farnsworth often?” asked Daisy of Patty, apropos of nothing but her own curiosity.
“Not often, Daisy,” returned Patty, of no mind to pursue the subject.
“But don’t you ever hear from him?” persisted the other.
“Oh, sometimes,” said Patty, carelessly. “He sent me flowers for my coming-out party.”
“I hear from Bill sometimes,” said Adèle. “I asked him to come to this party, but he couldn’t possibly leave just now. He’s awfully busy.”
“What’s he doing?” asked Mona.
“I don’t know exactly,” answered Adèle. “Jim can tell you, but it has something to do with prospecting of mines. Say, girls, do you want to see the baby before she’s put to bed?”
Of course they did, and they all trooped into the nursery to admire the tiny mite of humanity, who looked a picture, with her tumbled curls and her laughing face, just ready for bed.