But Madeline, who was in the loft writing, had overheard enough of the conversation to enable her to make her fortunes timely, and the “anti-bob” ordinance was not yet disposed of.
“You’ve got a tempest in your teacup, Lucile,” she announced. “It’s a frightful brain-storm brought on by the lack of your favorite outdoor exercise. Isn’t ‘hitching’ your favorite exercise, dearie? Well, do you see that? That’s a tipped-over sleigh. A brain-storm is better than an early and ignominious death encountered while ‘hitching,’ Lucile. But you’re going to do something very silly during the brain-storm.” Madeline frowned portentously over the grounds in Lucile’s cup. “I think I see Prexy—yes, the venerable Prexy himself is in here. You’ll be called up before the powers, Lucile, to answer for your foolishness, so beware.”
Lucile smiled her subtle, far-away smile—it was first cousin to Mary Brooks’s “beamish” one. “That will at least be exciting,” she said. “Fluffy Dutton, what do you say to a race to see which of us can break the most of their old rules at one go?”
Fluffy shook her curly head vigorously. “I’ve been up before the powers once, thank you, for too many lights after ten and cutting Greek prose and being back late after Christmas. I don’t care for it at all. If he’d glare and storm it wouldn’t be so bad, but when he appeals to your better judgment——” Fluffy shrugged expressively. “He treats you like an equal, and looks at you hard and shakes hands so nicely when he’s finished you up. And then you go off feeling like a marked-down bargain-lot of last night’s faded violets. No, thank you, Lucile. I’ll race you anywhere you like except to interviews with Prexy.”
“Good for you, Fluffy.” Georgia patted her on the back approvingly. “I didn’t think you had so much sense.”
“Lucile has just as much, only she’s trying to deceive us about it,” put in Betty, who had come over to hear the fortunes.
And then Madeline discovered a tall, light-haired suitor in Polly’s cup, and being accused of inventing him pointed him out to the satisfaction of the assembled company. And when Polly vehemently denied knowing a single light-haired man, she predicted a speedy meeting, a box of chocolates, an adventure by water, and a summer together by more water.
“Prom. man, of course,” explained Georgia easily, “invited for you by Lucile-of-the-vast-masculine-acquaintance, after your own man has decided to break his arm. Really, girls, there ought to be a rule against proms., because of the broken bones they produce. Well, Lucile’s friend will take you out on Paradise, thinking he can paddle, and upset you. And then he’ll spend the summer at Squirrel Island, where you always go. That’s easy. Madeline, just tell me if there’s a suitor in my cup, please. That’s all I care about. Your presents and trips abroad don’t interest me a bit.”
Betty had quite forgotten this conversation when, a week or so later, Polly Eastman appeared one morning at the Tally-ho.
“Don’t you want to rent your loft for a little party?” she demanded. “It’s bigger than the down-town hall, and it will be so nice to sit down here between times. We want extra-good eats too, so you’ll get very wealthy out of us.”