Kat spun around on her heel enthusiastically, and threw a handful of small apples into the air. "Of course there will," she cried. "Raymonds' never do anything except in the most stylish way. That's the fun of being rich."
"I've just been down to call on Miss Barnett," said Bea, stooping to pick some imaginary burr from her dress. "They are invited, too."
"Ah, indeed," said Kat, with a mischievous chuckle, "I suppose of course, you are glad, for you want Miss Barnett to have a good time, don't you?"
"Of course," answered Bea, with much composure, and a little color. "She is a very pleasant young lady, and I would like to invite them here one evening before she goes home."
"Nothing to prevent that I can see," said Kat, "unless the doctor should object; but then, I don't think he will."
"I shall ask mama," continued Bea, without noticing the little sly remark. "I need not have many, about fifteen is enough; and we might have cake, you know."
"Yes, cake and water; cheap and original; she won't expect much, for I suppose the doctor has told her that we are poor as Job's turkey."
"I suppose he has not," corrected Bea, with some mild resentment. "He would have no occasion to mention us in connection with such a subject. Besides, we're not as poor as that."
"Just go by it then," laughed Kat. "But you shall have a party, dear, if I have to paint the hole in the carpet and do all the work. We'll have a party or die."
Very much the same conclusion, only a little more mildly put, Mrs. Dering came to, when Bea made her modest request, with a pretty color in her face.