“No, Roger is looking all around. We want to find a place in the suburbs, not too far away from the family.”
“Imagine the fun of furnishing it—everything all new and shining!” exclaimed Mae, rapturously. “Making curtains, and draperies, and sofa pillows—oh, Doris, no wonder you’re happy!”
The conversation continued along this line until the luncheon was concluded, for all of the girls seemed as interested as Doris in the details. Neither Marjorie nor Daisy made any mention of the baby until they found themselves together on the big divan in the reception room.
“How is Betty?” asked Marjorie, turning eagerly to her companion. “I’ve been dying to ask, but couldn’t make an opportunity without seeming too abrupt.”
“She’s wonderful—gaining every day!” replied Daisy, enthusiastically. “Florence’s mother got a pair of scales, and we weighed her. And a friend is going to lend us a coach, so she can get out every day.”
“Is she still awfully cute?”
“Cuter than ever! Oh, Marj, you just ought to see her in her bath!”
“And—and what is the news of the mother?” Marjorie put the question falteringly, as if she almost dreaded the answer.
“She’s still alive—and apparently doing all right. They are expecting to operate, and if she gets through the operation there is some chance of her living. But it will be long and slow.”
“And meanwhile she will need money,” added Marjorie. “Well, Daisy, we’ve just got to get it, somehow!”