“Indeed, he didn’t,” said Cricket emphatically. “The good ones were all gone, and mamma was in a hurry, and He just sent any He had on hand.”
“Good for you, Cricket!” cried Eunice approvingly, thumping her sister on the back. “Now, Mr. Donald, who has come out the little end of the horn?”
“Eunice, your slang is simply disgusting. Of course, we men talk it, but girls should never think of it.”
“Hark, oh, hark, to the lordly Freshman!” chanted Eunice, clasping her hands and rolling up her eyes.
“Notice everything he says, Eunice, so we’ll know how to behave when we go to college, and are dear, cunning little Freshmen,” chimed in Cricket.
“No more words of wisdom to-night,” announced Donald, getting up. “I’m off.”
“The supply exhausted so soon?” murmured Marjorie, beginning a new corner in her embroidery.
Donald kissed his mother, ignoring Marjorie. “I’ll order you a Dresden China gown, my Lady Jane,” he said, twisting Cricket’s brown curls as he passed her.
On the eventful Tuesday morning, Cricket awoke bright and early—or rather, I should say, early but by no means bright. She had had a most unpleasant dream of having exchanged heads with an elephant, and her neck was, consequently, so much larger, that she could not fasten her collar around it. Eunice suggested they should make a new collar of the sail of the Gentle Jane, which she said would be just large enough. That seemed a good suggestion, but as they went to get it, they saw the Gentle Jane being taken out to sea by some playful seals.
“Dear! dear!” said Cricket in her dreams. “Now I’ll have to go to the party without anything around my neck, because there isn’t anything else big enough to make a collar of, and my throat is getting bigger all the time.” Just then she awoke, clutching her neck. Sure enough, it did feel queer, and was very stiff on one side. She swallowed, experimentally.