“For goodness’ sake, Lucy,” Marjorie exclaimed, “you might better have left me out of this. I’m no good at all when it comes to using any imagination.”
“You have probably as much as any of us, and you can’t get out of helping that way,” said Lucile, decidedly.
“From things she has said, I should give her credit for a good deal of imagination,” quoth Jessie, slyly.
“Oh, I’ll get even for all those awful things you have said to me and about me, Jessie Sanderson,” Marjorie threatened, good-naturedly. “I’d do it now, only I’m too busy trying to think up a plan.”
“Good girl; keep it up,” commended Lucile, and then, as she caught a murmured “That’s just an excuse” from Jessie’s direction, she cried, with a scarcely suppressed laugh, “Perhaps you would be doing a little more good in the world, Jessie, if you would follow her example.”
“Bravo!” cried Evelyn. “That’s one for you, Jessie,” and promptly received a withering glance from that young lady, which said as plainly as words, “You just wait; there’ll be a day of reckoning, and then——”
“Here comes the postman,” cried Margaret. “Shall I take the mail, Lucy?”
“Please,” she answered, and a moment later Margaret handed her half a dozen envelopes, while the girls looked on in eager silence.
“Is it there?” cried one of the girls, at last.
“Not yet,” said Lucile, but as she turned over the last letter, she uttered a cry of amazement and delight that sent all the girls crowding about her.