“What a jolly lark!” exclaimed Maisie; “the idea of you two girls having a lunch party!”
“And cooking everything ourselves,” added Dolly. “Dot’s in the kitchen yet, struggling with foods. Take off your things.”
The guests complied, keeping up a perfect stream of chatter as they looked about and admired everything in sight.
All had been there before, but not to a regular invited feast, and the occasion was a great one.
“If I had a house like this,” declared Ethel Rawlins, “I wouldn’t ask any more favours of Fate for twenty years!”
“Nor I,” agreed Celia. “Isn’t it wonderful! Don’t you just adore it, Dolly?”
“Indeed we do—yes, all right!” This last in answer to a frantic call from Dotty, in the kitchenette. “Excuse me, girls, Dot’s come to grief, somehow. Amuse yourselves till I come back.”
Dolly hurried to the rescue, and found Dotty throwing dish-towels into the croquette kettle.
“The old thing caught fire somehow!” she exclaimed, dancing about, “and, I never thought of it before, but, Dolly, do you think the house is insured?”
“Goodness, I don’t know! But never mind that, now; it isn’t going to burn down. Can we save the croquettes, or what shall we have for lunch?”