“That’s what I was going to tell you,” said Lucile. “When you all get settled, I’ll put my hand up to my hair like this, and then you begin to sing, very softly, ‘Oh, fire——’”
“That will be splendid, Lucy; it will seem almost like old times,” cried Margaret. “How did you manage to think it all out so beautifully?”
“Oh, it was simple enough,” said Lucile. “The only thing is, do you all like it?”
Lucile was very well satisfied with the reception of her plan a moment later. The girls were enthusiastic and overwhelmed her with questions until she was obliged for the second time that morning, to say, “One at a time, please.”
When, finally, all the arrangements were complete and satisfactory, one of the girls discovered it was after noon.
“Girls,” exclaimed Evelyn, dismayed, “we’ve used up the whole morning just talking.”
“Why, what time is it?” asked Margaret, feeling for her watch.
“It’s twelve fifteen,” announced Evelyn, impressively.
“Time I was going home,” Marjorie declared, jumping up. “Where’s my hat?”
“It’s inside with Evelyn’s,” Lucile answered. “If I hadn’t taken care of them there would have been nothing 30 left resembling a hat. I’ll get them,” she added, and ran into the house.