“Oh, well, you’re not so far behind the times,” Fluffy consoled her sweetly. “The limit is day after to-morrow, isn’t it, Georgia? If you get one all ready by then, you can join the C. I.’s.”
“What in the world is that?” demanded Eugenia eagerly.
“I believe the meaning’s to be a secret for a while,” Straight explained solemnly, “but if you have a doll you can belong; that I’m sure of. We’ve got ours here.” She patted Rosa Marie, and pointed to Georgia’s ungainly parcel. “It’s sure to be fun. Anyway, we’re all for it.”
“It sounds just splendid,” declared Eugenia, who still had aspirations toward intimacy with the jolliest, most exclusive crowd in Harding. “It’s lovely of you to tell me about it. Can anybody—can I tell my friends?”
The conspirators exchanged glances. Democracy would repel Eugenia. To her the C. I.’s must be made to appear highly exclusive.
“Ye-es,” Fluffy said at last. “It’s for anybody—that is anybody you’d ask. The dolls have got to be dressed by day after to-morrow, you know. Straight’s is going to be a perfect wonder. We’re thinking of having a doll-show later, so you’d better take some pains with yours. Good-night.”
“I wonder if the stores are closed yet,” added Straight loudly as Eugenia started off. “I ought to have bought some real lace for Rosa Marie’s petticoat.”
“Let’s go back, even if we are late to dinner,” declaimed Georgia distinctly. “By to-morrow everybody in the place will be rushing down for dolls and dolls’ dresses, and they’ll be dreadfully picked over.”
The conspirators paused to watch the effect of their sallies, and subsided, overcome with mirth, on the Music Building steps, when little Eugenia walked more slowly, halted, and finally turned down the hill toward Main Street.
“She’s not going to be at the tail of any procession of Complete Idiots,” chuckled Georgia. “Oh, I say, here comes Christabel Porter! Let’s tackle her.”