“Whom do you wish to ask, Wynnette?” inquired her mother.
“Why, only the Grandieres and the Elks.”
“You mean the young people, of course?”
“Yes, mamma, dear.”
“Let me see. There are about eight of them, all counted—six girls and two boys. Well, my dear, you know this wedding is to be a private one, in our own parlor, and no company is to be specially invited to the wedding. But you may write and ask your young friends to come and make us a visit for a week or two, so that they may be in the house about that time.”
“Oh, thank you, mamma, dear! that will be best of all!” exclaimed Wynnette, in delight.
And that same day she wrote to Oldfield and to Hill Grove to ask the young Grandieres and Elks to come up to Washington about the last of March to make a visit, mentioning that Leonidas had got home from sea, and that he and Odalite were to be married on the first of April, and hoping that they would come in time to witness the wedding, which was to be a very quiet one in their own parlor.
Wynnette knew that such letters as these would insure a visit from those to whom they were written. And she was right. In a very few days came answers from Oldfield and Grove Hill. All the invited accepted the invitations, and would report in Washington on the thirtieth of March, two days before the wedding.
“Let us see,” again reflected Mrs. Force. “There are nine guests coming in all—counting six Grandieres, two Elks and young Bayard. Of them six are young girls, and three are young men. How shall we dispose of them?”
“Oh, mamma, dear, we must pack, like we used to do in the country. Elva and Rosemary and myself can sleep in one room. The four Grandiere girls can sleep in the large double-bedded room. The two little Elks can have the little hall chamber and sleep together. And Roland Bayard and the Grandiere boys and Le can have the large attic room, and sleep on cots. Never mind where you put young men and boys, you know!” said this little household strategist.