A noise filled the hall, and even the lights of the library seemed to brighten, as Lucile and Ted, Arly and Gerald, and Dick Rodley, came tumbling in, laughing and chattering, and carrying hilarity in front of them like a wave. Gail shoved her tangle of thoughts still further back in her head, and the sparkle returned into her eyes.
“We’re bringing you a personal invitation to Arly and Gerald’s yacht party,” jabbered Lucile, kissing everybody in reach except the Reverend Smith Boyd.
“You might let Arly extend the invitation herself,” objected Ted.
“I’ve given the pleasure to Gerald,” laughed Arly, with a vivacious glance at that smiling gentleman. “He does it so much better. Now listen.”
“It’s a little informal week-end party, on the Whitecap,” Gerald informed them, with a new something in him which quite satisfactorily took the place of cordiality. “Sort of a farewell affair. Arly and I are about to take a selfish two months’ cruise, all by ourselves,” and he glanced fondly at the handsome black-haired young woman under discussion. “We should be pleased to have you join us,” and he included Mrs. Boyd and the young rector with a nod.
“Of course we’ll come,” agreed Gail. “Doctor Boyd, can’t you arrange for a week-end party once in your life?”
“Unfortunately custom has decreed that week-end parties shall cover Sundays,” he regretted, but there was a calculating look in his eye which sent Lucile over to him.
“Play hooky just once,” she begged. “This is only a family crowd, the Babbitts and Marion Kenneth, and we who are here.”
The Reverend Smith Boyd looked at his mother, and that lady brightened visibly.
“When is it to be?” he asked.