“It sounds great,” he assured her enthusiastically, “and I’m sure it will be as good as it sounds.”
“The invitation card,” Madeline ordered calmly, “is to have a beautifully frosted cake at the top and a stocking with a Santa Claus head sticking out of it at the bottom. You’ll just have to throw away the ones you got ready to-night. I’ll come around some time to-morrow to look over my children.”
“Thank you. That will be great,” said Mr. Thayer eagerly, and suddenly turned to Babbie, who had listened in silence to all Madeline’s enthusiastic planning. “Won’t you please come too? It’s a queer place. I think you’d like going through it.”
“I shall probably have to come,” Babbie told him rather ungraciously, “because Madeline can’t go alone, and Betty will be too busy.”
“I’m sorry that I should be the means of inconveniencing you,” Mr. Thayer told her gravely, holding out his hand. “Good-night.” And he was gone, with only a nod for the others.
“Goodness, Babbie, but you’re chilly,” Madeline protested.
“Well, you’re absurd,” Babbie retorted. “You can never make such a thing go in the world, Madeline. That sort of people won’t know how to carry it through.”
“Of course not,” Madeline conceded. “I’ve thought of that. Some of the children will do for Stockings, but for the Cakes and the Jester and all that, I’m going to have college girls who stay here over the holidays. I think I’ll go up now to see Georgia about who’ll be here.”
“Oh, what a splendid idea!” cried Betty eagerly. “I’d been wishing we could make a Christmas for the left-overs.”
“I don’t believe they’ll want to bother with anything like this,” objected Babbie. “Besides, only freaks stay over Christmas.”