Madeline looked at her keenly, for a moment. “Eleanor Watson,” she began sternly, “you’re thinking about last fall. Don’t you know that that stupid girl didn’t stand for anybody but her own stupid self?”
“She was in the right,” said Eleanor simply.
“Not wholly,” objected Madeline, “and if she was this isn’t a parallel case. In making you toastmistress 19— was supposed to be doing you an honor. You’re doing her a favor now, and a good big one.”
“And if we tell Marie about the toy-shop, we shall tell her that you thought of it,” put in Betty firmly.
“And we shall also say that you hate committee meetings as much as I do,” put in Madeline artfully, “but that we are both willing to help in any way that we can with ideas and costumes.”
Eleanor looked pleadingly from one to the other.
“We won’t give in,” declared Betty, “so it’s no use to make eyes at us like that.”
“Either we suppress the whole idea and 19— goes begging for another, or it stands as yours,” said Madeline in adamant tones.
“Well, then, of course,” began Eleanor slowly at last.
“Of course,” laughed Betty, jumping up to hug her. “I knew you’d see it sensibly in a minute. Come on, Madeline. We haven’t any time to lose.”