Lillian. Yes, and I’ll have to take cod liver oil to cure it.
Beatrice. Do you suppose she’ll make you?
Lillian. Of course. I can’t say it was Betty, can I? Besides, she has been saying I ought.
Betty. Girls, she knew we were there!
Dorothy. I believe she did!
Maude. And talked for our benefit.
Florence. Made us feel pretty small, too. I’m glad she got Effie, anyway. She did feel so big at getting the best of it.
Betty. Say, girls, let’s make a clean breast of it and tell her we’re sorry. (Tears off badge.) No more midnight feasts for me!
Beatrice. Nor me. Girls, S. O. M. F. is disbanded.
Florence. And nobody had a feast after all but that troublesome little Effie.