Gingerly with a fork they picked up the towels, and found a number of black, dried-up cylinders that had once been Dotty’s carefully shaped croquettes.
“Nothing doing!” said Dolly, philosophically, as she gazed at the charred remains. “You got the lard too hot, Dotsie.”
“So I notice! Well, we’ll have to cut out the croquette course.”
“No matter. I’ll skip over home and get a platter of cold lamb, there was a lot left last night, I know. You chin with the girls, and I’ll fly.”
Dolly scooted out at the back door of Treasure House, and across to her own home, and soon returned with a dainty dish of sliced lamb.
Then she busied herself with her own allotment of the preparations, and began to heat the soup.
“ ’Most ready?” said Dotty, flying in suddenly, and startling Dolly so she nearly dropped the pepper-box.
“Yes, in a minute. Fill the water glasses, set the fruit thing-a-ma-jigs on the table, cut the bread,—oh, no, we have rolls,—well, get them fixed, and hunt up the butter and—oh, my gracious, the salad has upset!”
“Not really!”
“Not entirely; I can straighten it out, I guess. Oh, why did we ask them to come so early! I’ve heaps to do. You put the cocoa in the silver pot, won’t you? and, oh Dot, the olives haven’t been opened yet!”