“Which lovely man?” asked Prue. “There are so many of them.”
“Why—oh, you know his name. I can't think of it—Loveland—Steve Loveland. We met him at Constance Leigh's one evening.”
Here Nannie Branscome colored, but no one noticed her.
“Young ladies, come to order,” said the president.
“Or order will come to you,” said Hilda. “Prue has raised her parasol—gavel, I mean.”
“There goes Amy Frisbe,” remarked Puddy from her post by the window. “Do you know her engagement's off?”
“Well, I'll be jig——” Hilda began.
“Sh-h!” said the president.
“The president objects to slang, but I'll still be jiggered, as Lord Fauntleroy's friend remarked.”
“Sh-h!” said the president.