Miss Leech required no entertaining save to be allowed to wander about at will, touching with timid, delicate fingers the ornaments or curios about the room, and making happy, though inarticulate, comments upon them.
Then Ladybird and Stella devoted themselves to the amusement of the rest of the guests, who were all children and easily pleased by playing games or listening to Stella while she sang funny songs to her banjo accompaniment.
During one of these songs, Ladybird slipped out to the kitchen in search of Martha and Bridget, who were as yet unacquainted with the character of the Primrose Hall guests.
“I expect they’ll raise Cain,” she said to herself; “but I feel like Alexander to-day, and I’d just as soon conquer a few more worlds as not.
“Martha,” she began in a conciliatory tone, though determination lurked beneath her eyelashes, “the people who have come to my party are not the ones I expected to invite at first. They’re—they’re different.”
“Yes, miss,” said Martha, impassively.
“And two of them are lame, Martha, and two of them are babies, and two of them are not quite right in their heads.”
“Luny, miss?”
“Well, yes; I think you might call it that,” said Ladybird, gravely considering the case. Then after a pause she added, “And Martha, we’ll have to fix high chairs for the babies; put cushions in the chairs, you know, or dictionaries, or something.”
“Did your aunts invite these people, miss?” said Martha, suspecting, more from Ladybird’s manner than her words, that there was something toward.