“We took some trees on top of Johnnie-goat,” broke in Eunice, “and we hoped that it would look as if he and the children were behind them. Really, I think that would be a pretty good plan, any way, if they would only develop right.”
“So they didn’t, eh?”
“Papa, you needn’t tease us. Developing pictures isn’t a bit of fun, and I’m not going to do it any more,” burst out Cricket desperately. “It isn’t right to take money from the photographers anyway, for it’s their business, and they lose so much if we do it ourselves.”
“I think so, too,” chimed in Eunice. “We staid in all this lovely Saturday, shut up in a hot, smelly closet, and wasted a lot of stuff, and got our hands all stained, and spoiled a whole lot of films.”
“But had your experience,” put in papa. “Experience is a hard school, but wise men learn in no other way. How’s that, my Lady Jane? And now about Kayuna on Saturday,” he went on, kindly changing the subject.
“Cricket, don’t ever tell about the film,” whispered Eunice as they left the table. “Don’t ever tell any one.”
And they never have told but one person, and she has never told till just now. Don’t you tell, will you?
CHAPTER III.
A “MUMPFUL” PARTY.
Certain dainty blue billets were causing a wild flutter of excitement among the ranks of Miss Lyon’s school, for every girl in “our set” received one of the fascinating things.
“Miss Emily Drayton requests the pleasure of—” How deliciously grown up! Emily’s parties were always simply perfect. Emily did not go to school with the others, for she was a delicate little girl, and had her lessons with a governess at home. Her friends rather envied her at times, since she had short hours and not half the Latin and arithmetic to do that they did, and an entire holiday whenever she did not feel quite well; but, in her turn, Emily often looked wistfully at the others, and longed with all her heart for the dear delights of school life. She always felt “out of it” when her little friends laughed and chattered and compared notes over school doings that she knew nothing of. They would kindly explain the jokes and references, but when she did not know dear Miss Bates and cross Miss Raymond and slipshod Susie Dane and stupid Jessie Moore, the things that the girls laughed over till their sides ached did not seem very funny to her. It made her rather a lonely little girl, and, for this reason, her mother was always getting up some simple little party or company for her, and having Emily’s friends to luncheon.