"Grannie," asked the lively girl, pressing her warm red cheek against Mrs. Slater's much paler one, "would you like to be amused? Would you like to be a black conspirator and humble your most haughty servitor to the dust? Then you must ascend to my haunted den and not say a single word for at least five minutes. Come on, girls."
In Henrietta's oddly furnished room there were two large East Indian gods and one heathen goddess. Henrietta had managed to group these interesting, Oriental figures in one corner of the spacious chamber, with appropriate drapings behind them. Near them she had placed an empty packing case, oblong in shape and plastered with curious, foreign labels. It looked as if it were waiting to be carried away to the furnace room or some such place.
Darkening her bedroom and her dressing room, she placed her obliging grandmother and her four friends behind the heavy portières.
"You can peek round the edges," said she, "but you mustn't be seen or heard or even suspected."
Then, fun-loving Henrietta brought Rosa Marie from another room, removed her wraps, concealed them from sight and placed the stolid child in a sitting posture on a large tabouret near one of the richly colored statues. Next she rang for Greta, and ran downstairs in person to ask Simmons to come at once to remove the heavy packing case.
Simmons obeyed immediately and just as the pair reached Henrietta's door, Greta, who had been in her own room, joined them. All three entered together.
"Don't you want to see my lovely new statue?" asked Henrietta. "There, with the rest of my heathen friends."
"Ho," said Simmons, leaning closer to look. "That's wot came in that 'eavy box. Another 'eathen god from Hindia."
"ANOTHER 'EATHEN GOD FROM HINDIA."