“The rest don’t count,” cut in Betty. “We have the majority and, besides, they always do what we suggest.”
“Let’s call a class meeting tonight,” said Polly. “And now, if we don’t start to gather some violets, the Seniors won’t accept our invitation if we do ask them to a party.”
For an hour they picked flowers and discussed the plans.
“None of your garden parties with ice-cream and cake for me; there’s never any fun in that,” remarked Betty, dipping a handful of withered violets into the brook.
“Besides, that is what the ‘sofs’ have planned to do. Mary Rice told me about it, confidentially,” added Lois.
“Therefore you immediately tell us,” laughed Betty. “Well, they need not be afraid of our copying them. Polly’s plan’s the best, if we can only do it.”
“Listen!” commanded Polly. “Wasn’t that some one calling up there?”
“Hello!” called a voice directly above them.
The girls looked and there, standing on a rock, were Connie and Angela, with their arms full of dogwood.
“Come on down,” sang out Betty. “You’re just the ones we want; we’ve a wonderful idea.”