“I know of only one other,” she replied. “She was an impudent little wretch, named Gladys Manners.”
“Hum, I knew you were going to say that,” Gladys replied, her temper not one bit ruffled. “And it’s almost true. I was an awful smarty, but then I was only ten years old.”
“And it didn’t take you long to reform, I’ll say that for you,” Ann admitted.
“It couldn’t have, because butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth my first year,” Prue laughed at a sudden memory now two years old. “If I even raised my voice above a whisper, the little imp would remind me that I was a new girl, and here I was a whole year older than she was.”
“Mercy, we must be careful, Jan,” Phyllis said, and Janet nodded.
“Do you suppose we’ve been here long enough to call Taffy down if she’s noisy?” she inquired. “I’d just love to call Taffy down.”
Daphne’s cool gaze rested on Janet, then she laughed her funny little laugh.
“Guess I’ll have to stay through the Christmas vacation to get even with you,” she drawled.
“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Sally protested. “I just had a letter from mother today and she says she’s planning with Auntie Mogs Carter the most scrumptious Christmas Eve party, and I’d like to see you dare stay away from it.”
Gladys turned back to the window and her private conversation with Aunt Jane’s Poll-parrot.