"Oh, Bob," she began, "this is Rosalie Artman. I am always taken when you try to make a date with me, so I thought I would try my hand on you. I have a town girl staying all night, and we want you to come and help us celebrate. And can't you ask Arthur Gooding to come? I do not know him very well myself, but he is so sensible, and this is a very sensible girl, so they ought to get on wonderfully. Will you see? Oh, that is just lovely."
"I do not know how to talk to men, Rosalie, I never had a date in my life. I can't think of things to say."
"Leave it to me," cried Rosalie blithely. "I can do most of the talking. And Arthur is so sensible you won't have to talk. Just sit back and look wise, and he will think you are wonderful. And Bob is lots of fun, and—oh, it will be easy."
The rest of the afternoon passed comfortably enough getting ready for the evening, and the girls had told the boys good night, and gone up-stairs before Rosalie remembered that Alicia was a bore.
When they went into their room for the night, she turned Alicia's face to the light and scrutinized the bright quiet eyes, and the flushed but still placid face.
"Marvels will never cease," she said solemnly. "I am not sensible, I don't want to be sensible, I don't even believe in sense, and I talk all the time, and the silliest talk I can think of—but that perfectly dignified sober Arthur Gooding, who is a 'post,' fell for me like a flash, head over heels. And he was invited for you! And you sat back in a corner saying as near nothing as possible, but that irrepressible Bob Harton could not keep three feet away from you all evening, and never took his eyes off your face once. Come now, 'fess up. Did he make a date with you?"
"Three—one for to-morrow, and two for next week," admitted Alicia, smiling softly. "Isn't he funny and bright?"
Rosalie turned her back, and stared up at the ceiling. "Well," she said at last, "I always have thought you quiet girls were dangerous, if you ever get started."