“They’re both wrong!” put in Marie Louise. “For I met Doris at a tea, and would have invited her home with me, for Roger’s sake as well as my own, if she had never met him any other way!”
“I suppose I had nothing at all to do with it,” remarked Roger, meekly; but a timid glance from Doris assured him that he was the only one who mattered.
In spite of the enjoyable evening they were having, the guests departed early; for Marjorie insisted that they would have a strenuous day of house-hunting before them on the morrow. She warned Marie Louise to be ready by ten o’clock in the morning.
The following day, however, Marjorie was up at dawn, and in her impatience to begin, she telephoned Marie Louise at eight o’clock. A surprised and sleepy voice answered her at the other end of the wire, and it became rather indignant when Marjorie begged its owner to be ready an hour earlier.
“Nine o’clock! I can never be ready by then. Why, I’m still in bed!”
“Oh, come on!” coaxed Marjorie. And in the end she had her way.
John, much amused by Marjorie’s superabundance of energy, and under the spell of her enthusiasm, was perfectly willing to forego his customary Sunday-morning sleep.
Promptly at nine o’clock they drove up to the Harris’s door and found Marie Louise finishing a hasty breakfast. Now that she was thoroughly awake, she too was anxious to start, and climbed into the car talking volubly.
It was but a few minutes’ ride from the Harris’s to the park, which they entered upon a highway extending along one of the smaller streams that joined the Wissahickon. Marjorie, who had read and heard much about the natural beauty of the famous stream, was entranced as she beheld it. She clapped her hands in delight, and kept exclaiming and pointing out objects of beauty and interest.
“But the houses—where are the houses?” she asked.