Once, while Lucy and Phil were in the midst of an animated discussion about some baseball game or other that they had seen recently, Mr. Payton managed a sly wink in his wife’s direction that said more plainly than any words, “Aren’t you proud of them? And they are all ours!”
At quarter past eight the first of Mrs. Wescott’s young guests began to arrive. They came in relays of three and four, all very excited and happy and eager for a good time.
Promptly at eight thirty Lucile and Phil, with Jessie and a cousin of hers, Jack Turnbull by name, started up the drive to Mrs. Wescott’s beautiful home.
“Doesn’t it look lovely with the lights all over the place?” said Jessie.
“Yes; especially because it has looked so forsaken for the last six months,” Lucile answered. A few moments later they reached the door and were ushered into the brilliantly lighted hall.
“Lucy, stay near me, will you?” Jessie urged in a nervous whisper. “I don’t know half these people.”
“Cheer up; we’re all in the same fix,” whispered Phil over her shoulder. “We four can stick together, anyway.” 54
“You have the right idea,” said Jack Turnbull, with perhaps a trifle more emphasis than was necessary, and with a glance toward Lucile, who had gone forward to meet her hostess.
“Oh, he always has the right idea,” Jessie chaffed, with a merry glance at Phil, and then she followed Lucile to her guardian’s side.
She greeted her guardian and then looked reproachfully at Lucile.