BEHIND SCENES
The girls were hardly in a mood to return to their fudge-making, so Stella produced a box of Whitman's chocolates and the group settled down to eat them and discuss the events of the past exciting half hour. Polly squatted upon the rug and with her uninjured arm hauled about half of Tzaritza upon her lap. Tzaritza was positively foolish in her ecstatic joy at being restored to favor.
"Poor Tzaritza, you got into trouble because I lost my temper, didn't you? It was a heap more my fault than yours after all."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with Tzaritza. It's the Sturgeon. Hateful old thing! I just hope Mrs. Vincent gives her bally-hack," stormed Rosalie. "Suppose we did shout and screech? It's Saturday night and we have a right to if we like. But what under the sun did Mrs. Vincent want of you, Peggy?"
"Oh, nothing very serious," answered Peggy, smiling in a way which set Rosalie's curiosity a-galloping.
"Yes, what did she want?" demanded Polly, turning to look up at Peggy.
"Can't tell anybody now. You'll all know after Thanksgiving," answered Peggy, wagging her head in the negative.
"Oh, please tell us! Ah, do! We won't breathe a living, single word!" cried the chorus.
"Uh-mh!" murmured Peggy in such perfect imitation of old Mammy that Polly laughed outright.
"Aren't you even going to tell Polly?" asked Rosalie, who had arrived at some very definite conclusion regarding these friends, for Rosalie was far from slow if at times rather more self-assertive than the average young lady is supposed to be.