Odalite looked all around the drawing room, and, seeing that she was alone with her next sister, whispered:
“And I don’t mind telling you, Wynnette, if you will keep it a profound secret, that I entirely share your feelings.”
“Oh—oh—oh! So them’s your sentiments—I mean these are your feelings? Well, I thought so. But to hear you say it!” exclaimed Wynnette.
“Do not speak of it to any one, dear,” said Odalite.
“Why not? I should be proud to proclaim it on the housetop.”
“Because, dear, no one could understand. They would think me a lunatic.”
“Oh! And you don’t mind telling me because I understand and will think you sensible? Not to any extravagant extent I don’t, though. I have not considered you just level—I mean compos mentis—since you consented to marry that puncheon—I mean officer. Hush! Here comes Jake!”
The negro entered, with an armful of holly, and the work went on in silence.
By noon all the decorations were completed, the litter of leaves gathered up, and the carpet covered with a tightly drawn linen cloth for the feet of the dancers.
The family took an early dinner, and dressed to receive their juvenile company, who were expected to begin to arrive in the afternoon.