"Oh, Bud promised faithfully to bring me back in time for it. The others are going to spend the evening and sing, and roast marshmallows, but out of deference to us preachers he promised to have me home by seven."
"Ask father," countered Doris.
"Oh, General dearest, you know father ought not to be bothered on Sunday afternoon. It wouldn't be right."
"Rosalie, don't ask me. I want you to do whatever you want to, but— How many are going?"
"Twelve, I suppose. Three cars full. Bud is going to take me in his brother's runabout."
"Twelve. Then it is a regular party."
"Oh, not really, dearest. It will take an hour to get there, and then it will be nearly suppertime, and we will have to come right straight home afterward. You know Miriam's people are terribly religious—not like us preachers, of course, but very particular. One time they were dancing on Saturday night, and they sent us right home at midnight—they said there should be no dancing in their house on Sunday. I was there, but I did not dance." Rosalie laughed a little. "So the next Saturday night when we were there, Miriam's Aunt Gertrude turned the clock back an hour, to give us a little more time."
"There would not be any dancing then, that is one thing," said Doris thoughtfully.
"Well," admitted Rosalie honestly but reluctantly, "Miriam's parents are out of town, and Aunt Gertrude is the chaperon to-day."
Doris looked at her in exasperation. "You bad girl, you fooled me on purpose. Run up and ask father, dear, won't you? It will only take a minute, and he won't mind. I can't settle it for you."