"Now begin over again," urged Louise, when the boys had gone. She began to open the suit-cases and to pull out the negligees, so that they could be perfectly comfortable.
"Well," continued Elsie, settling back in the pretty cretonne-covered chair that matched all the furnishings of the lovely, yet simple bedroom, "you know Aunt Margaret, of course. Those other two elderly women are friends—no need for you to learn their names.
"Of us, Roger is the oldest—he's thirty-one—and he isn't married. He's had dozens of girls, but I think he loves being a bachelor. He goes in for all kinds of racing—motorboat, automobile, and now airplane. And he adores young girls. You want to watch your step, Linda, for we're always expecting him to marry all of a sudden sometime. To somebody a whole lot younger!"
Linda smiled, and Louise shook her head knowingly.
"Linda's wise," she remarked.
"And Anita's the next oldest," went on Elsie. "I guess you didn't recognize her, did you, Louise? The stout woman, with those two children clinging to her."
"No, I didn't!" exclaimed her cousin. "But remember, it's been ten years since our family were here. I do recall her now—she was a High School graduate that summer. And so thin!"
"Well, she's fat now, and so is her husband. You'll see him tonight—they're spending the summer here. They have two kids.... The twins come next—they're twenty-three, and then my other married sister Jennie. You remember Jen?"
"Naturally!"