"He does not write fairy stories, but I believe he tells them sometimes," laughed their father. "And I have no matrimonial designs on him, I assure you, but I want him to be our friend. It will be a great pleasure to me, and a great help—and I need both."
Doris and Rosalie looked swiftly at each other at that, but neither made any comment. When Mr. Artman had gone up-stairs, still laughing with satisfaction, the four of them put their heads together.
"Let's think up a dinner fit for a—fit for a—"
"A pope," suggested Zee.
"Zee, I am surprised at you. Fit for a president."
"Since father said spare no expense, I say fried chicken, and I want the wishbone."
"A good idea. We'll have fried chicken. Now what else?"
"Let's do it up in style, and have courses. Treasure can wait on the table without spilling things, and then come quietly to her place without banging chairs. Soup—"
"Yes."