“Yes, I think so—all but Ross. He’d probably rather run the victrola, and sit out dances. It would be all right if we only had enough girls!”
“Oh, here’s the tea-room!” cried Marjorie, glad of the opportunity to change the subject. “I hope Roger and Doris aren’t lost.”
The other machine drove up in a minute, and the young people jumped out. Marjorie led the way.
“Are you ready for us, Mrs. King?” she asked, as a good-natured looking landlady smilingly approached the girls.
“Yes, indeed—there’s your table by the window, Miss Marjorie.”
The little tea-room, with its prettily curtained windows, its fireplace, and its shining white paint, was exceedingly attractive. The table to which Mrs. King had directed the girls was already set with dainty china, and a big bowl of pink roses served as a center-piece.
Mrs. Wilkinson had known Mrs. King for many years; and believing that the young people would enjoy a luncheon by themselves, she had telephoned to her to ask her to act as chaperone.
The luncheon, from the appetizing chicken soup to the French pastry dessert, was delicious and dainty; the service was good; and the party was in high spirits. After it was over, Mrs. King invited the young people to sing some school songs around the open fireplace. It was almost three o’clock when Marjorie rose to go.
“If this were the end of it all,” said Ethel, as she climbed into the machine, “I would vote it the best time I ever had in my life.”
“And the best is yet to come,” said Frances, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.