“Let’s have Babe,” suggested Rachel.
“She’s older than her name, her hair has always been straight——”
“Except once,” put in Katherine, and everybody shrieked with laughter at the recollection of Babe’s one disastrous experience with a marcelle wave.
“And then she looked like a wild woman of Borneo,” went on Rachel, “so it shouldn’t count against her. Furthermore this society was organized to give her a chance.”
“All right,” agreed Nita. “I withdraw my nomination. Babe, you’re elected. Instruct the secretary to cast a unanimous ballot for yourself.”
“Very well,” said Babe with much dignity. “Please do it, Madeline, and then I appoint you and Betty and Eleanor to choose a present for Miss Hale. I was just going to say, when I interrupted myself to remark upon the extraordinary absence of a presiding officer”—Babe coughed and dropped her presidential manner abruptly—“I was going to say that I’m all for a stuffed turtle, like those we got in Nassau. I think a ripping big one would be the very thing.”
“Babe!” said Babbie scornfully. “Imagine how a turtle would look among her wedding presents.”
“I think it would look stunning,” persisted Babe, “and it would be so appropriate from us.”
“Don’t be dictatorial, Babe,” advised Rachel. “It isn’t seemly in a president. Perhaps your committee can think of something appropriate that won’t be quite so startling as a turtle. When is the wedding, Betty?”
“The thirty-first of December at half-past eight,” explained Betty.