“It wasn’t anything,” she insisted. “I’d have done it myself, if I’d have thought of it. Of course it isn’t very pleasant to have your stomach sick at itself; but he didn’t know I don’t like oil. But, oh, mamma, I’ve thought of such a nice little trick to play on him now!”
“It’s time to stop, dear,” said Mrs. Ward. “Don’t let’s carry it any further.”
“Please, mamma, it’s such a little joke, and it wouldn’t hurt him a bit; and I do think he deserves a good taking-down,” pleaded Cricket. “He’ll crow over me, always, if I don’t; he’ll call me ‘’fraid cat,’ and I’m not a ‘’fraid cat;’ I’ll leave it to anybody.”
“Let’s hear the joke,” said mamma judicially, remembering Archie’s own words; and Cricket unfolded her little scheme.
“I thought of that when I was sickest,” she finished triumphantly. And mamma said she might do it.
That evening the boys had planned to go and make a formal call on May Chester. Formal calls were rather a new experience for both of them, and each felt as important as a little dog with a new collar. They went up-stairs, to get ready, directly after dinner, and were gone an unconscionably long time.
“I know those boys will try to sneak down-stairs, and get out without being seen,” said Eunice, getting impatient for their appearance.
“They can’t do it. I’m on the lookout with my little eye,” chirped Cricket, from the portières. “Isn’t it funny how ashamed boys always are of being dressed up! ’Sh! there they come now. Edith, you know you’re to go out and ask them to come in a moment. They won’t suspect you.”
“Slip out in the hall as if you were looking for something, and meet them by accident,” advised Eunice.
Edith obediently sauntered out into the hall, and met the boys as directed. After a moment’s conversation, she succeeded in coaxing them into the parlour, for approval from the family. Archie came in with a lofty expression, as if making formal calls on young ladies, with pale yellow kid gloves on, was an every-night affair. Will looked somewhat conscious.