“For heaven's sake! What next?” ejaculated Aunt Nettie.
Mrs. Merriam regarded the nasturtiums for a second longer before she brought her eyes back to the two young faces and broke the tense hush.
“What made you think you wanted to give a dinner-party?”
Oh, rapture! Missy's heart subsided an inch, and she drew a long breath. But she wisely let Tess do the replying.
“Oh, everything in Cherryvale's so passe' and ennuye'. We want to do something novel—something really distingue'—if you know what I mean.”
“I believe I do,” replied Mrs. Merriam gravely.
“Dis-tinn-gwy!” repeated Aunt Nettie. “Well, if you ask me—” But Mrs. Merriam silenced her sister with an unobtrusive gesture. She turned to the two petitioners.
“You think an evening dinner would be—distinngwy?”
“Oh, yes—the way we've planned it out!” affirmed Tess. She, less diffident than Missy, was less reserved in her disclosures. She went on eagerly: “We've got it all planned out. Five courses: oyster cocktails; Waldorf salad; veal loaf, Saratoga chips, devilled eggs, dill pickles, mixed pickles, chow-chow and peach pickles: heavenly hash; and ice-cream with three kinds of cake. And small cups of demitasse, of course.”
“Three kinds of cake?”