“Oh, no,” objected Roberta. “That would spoil the whole idea of the novel’s being true and the merry match-making being ours.”
“Oh, well, perhaps it will seem all right when the pictures are put in,” suggested Mary, hopefully. “Lots of novels wouldn’t amount to anything without the illustrations.”
“Did Bob tell you what she thought of?” asked Babbie. “She suggested that the novel would make the best kind of wedding present for Miss Hale.”
“Goodness no!” exclaimed Mary. “I’m not going to be a laughing-stock for the faculty!”
“But think of all the tender memories it would evoke,” said Bob, grinning broadly at her own sentimentality.
“And how well it will prove that things are not what they seem to the fine imagination of a budding young authoress,” added Madeline Ayres, who had been conspicuously silent during the discussion.
“What do you mean, Madeline?” asked Mary, suspiciously.
“I mean,” said Madeline, “that your novel is a fairy-tale—every word of the match-making part, except a few unimportant facts that you saw but misinterpreted.”
“I told you so!” cried Betty, in triumph. “Oh, Madeline, how did you find out?”
But Madeline only shrugged her shoulders. “No matter how,” she said. “I thought I’d better warn them, so that they wouldn’t be too much disappointed later on.”