“Why, Poll, you never told me that New York girls gave parties,” she complained.
But the New York girls were too busy discussing Mrs. Ladd’s letter to notice her.
“Merciful gumption!” Phyl exclaimed a few minutes later. “There goes sweet dreams.”
The others stopped to listen. From the farthest end of the hall came the soft chimes of the grandfather clock. The little melody sounded like a slumber song, and the girls all called it sweet dreams.
“I thought it was about eight o’clock,” Ann protested. “I haven’t even looked at my history.”
“Well, I hate to be inhospitable,” Sally said, “but I must set the example to Taffy; she’s a new girl, you know.”
“You never would know it,” Prue said with a little smile. “Taffy and the twins are part of the spirit at Hilltop, and have been for centuries. Who dares to call them new?”
“Very prettily said, Prue darling,” Sally laughed. “But, out you go, just the same and seek your own little beds.”
Gladys put her arm protectingly around Prue.
“Never mind, lamb child. You can come and orate to your two long-suffering room-mates.”