"But whatever in the world we are going to do with that solemn Alicia Gordon for eighteen hours, I do not know. You'll have to do most of the talking, Doris."
"Oh, no, indeed; she is your guest. We put her in your hands absolutely and you alone will be responsible for her comfort."
"But, General—"
"If she is my company, you won't get much punishment out of it, will you?"
Rosalie sighed heavily. "Eighteen hours—she will come right from work—that means luncheon. Oh, Doris, you do not know what a blow she is. And a nice enough girl, too—but whatever can we talk about for eighteen hours?"
Doris had no suggestions forthcoming, and to make the affliction greater, on Saturday she made unexpected arrangements to drive to the country with her father.
"And you can get lunch for yourself and the girls, can't you, Rosalie dear?"
"But Alicia Gordon—"
"Oh, she won't mind. I'll be home in time to have a nice dinner for you. Bye, Rosalie; good luck."
Alicia arrived from her work almost as soon as Rosalie came in from a business meeting of the Literary Society, and a heated discussion of menus was immediately in progress.