“We can have new menu cards now,” put in Madeline. “I never did like the color of these, and besides I think Bob Enderby ought to put a gift-shop in one corner of the design he drew for us. It certainly ought to be noticed in some way on the menu.”
“I think he ought to add a night-school too,” declared Babbie playfully, “and a notice that Betty does tutoring. If we’re broadening out so much, we ought to let people know all about it.”
“Just because you happen to be running it, the night-school isn’t a branch of the tea-shop, Babbie,” demurred Madeline. “Wait until Mr. Thayer actually promises to buy the sandwiches before you consider it a part of the ‘eats’ business.”
“Well, it’s an outgrowth of it,” retorted Babbie. “The tea-shop is responsible for the club-house.”
“Oh, if we’re going to put all that the tea-shop is responsible for on the menu,” Madeline began, with a provoking little smile, “we should have to put on a picture of a broken h——”
“Come, girls,” interposed Betty, hastily, foreseeing another blundering reference from Madeline to Mr. Thayer’s devotion to Babbie, “don’t quarrel about unimportant little things like menu cards, but let’s discuss what we shall serve and what new china we need.”
“Oh, new china!” cried Madeline in great excitement. “I hadn’t thought of that! I shall go to New York to buy it. Now, whoever said the fat little mustard jars were an extravagance? We shall use them a lot for dinners.”
Betty banged the table for order. “Now how many dinner plates shall we buy to begin with?” she inquired in businesslike tones.
Madeline banged the table noisily in her turn. “I know something much more important than dinner plates,” she declared ostentatiously. “Do let’s be businesslike, Betty, and systematic. Your haphazard methods jar upon my order-loving soul.”
Betty waited resignedly.