“I should say so. Are they coming here for dinner?”
“Yes; they invited us to go to a hotel, but mother put her foot down. I’m just as glad—we’ll have as good a time here, even if we have mother and father to chaperone us.”
“Oh, they’re such good sports!” said Marjorie. “They don’t seem like older people. But say, Lil, it sounds like a lot of gaiety—dinner and theatre tomorrow, luncheon the day after—”
“A dance at Mae’s the next day,” added Lily, “and finally a bridge party at the McAlpin, given by a friend of mother’s, in honor of her daughter.”
“And then we have to go back to college!” sighed Marjorie. “Oh, what a come down!”
“Still, you know you’ll be glad to get back, and see all the girls—and our little Girl Scouts in the village.”
“I suppose so,” admitted Marjorie, thinking of the troop of poor children which she had organized, and over which she and Lily presided. It had been one of her chief sources of happiness that year to be able to continue her active membership in the Girl Scouts by this means, and in some ways she had enjoyed the meetings even more than those of dear old Pansy Troop.
“Come on—let’s go to sleep now!” said Lily, extinguishing the tiny light; “we’ll need every bit of rest we can get.”
Mrs. Andrews, too, realized the girls’ need for sleep, and made no attempt to waken them before they were ready. Indeed, it was almost eleven o’clock when the maid knocked at the door, and brought in their breakfast. The girls ate leisurely, taking up the conversation where they had left off the previous night, and talking as if they had not a minute to lose.
“Did you think of any way to help Daisy while you were asleep?” asked Marjorie, laughingly.