"That's just splendid," she said to herself, surveying the pile of assorted notepaper, "perfect."
"I say, Bess, are you going to give a party?" asked her brother, happening to catch sight of the notes.
"Yes."
"When?"
"I'll tell you when it's all over."
At 2.45 on Sunday afternoon twelve girls met round the market-pump, each greatly surprised to see all the others.
"I came here to meet Bessie Marchant," said one.
"And so did I," said another.
"And so did I," said they all; and then they all laughed, for they were a good-natured set of girls.
"We'll make her answer for this when she turns up," said some of them.