"Why, girls," said Miss Van Schaick, "she isn't responsible for it, after all!"
Before the disappointment could spoil their pleasure one of them said, impatiently, "Oh, let's look at 'em!"
They rushed to the window.
"Let's go downstairs. We can see 'em better!" And Grace's friends thereupon rushed away. One of them was considerate enough to say, "Come on, Grace!" and Grace followed, not quite grasping the change in the situation. Her fears were not so keen; her doubts keener.
They nearly overturned their respective mammas in their rush to get to the windows.
"Grace," said Miss Van Schaick, who had never before called her anything but "Miss—er—Goodchild," "send out and tell them to stop and face this way. I don't think I read all the sandwiches."
"Yes! Yes!"
"Oh, do!"
"Please, Grace, tell 'em!" It sounded like election, when women shall vote. Much more melodious than to-day.
The dowagers were made speechless. They had acquired that habit before their daughters.