CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A STRING OF PEARLS
The next afternoon at the three-thirty recreation, the girls met in Adele’s room to look over their party dresses and see if snaps and buttons needed sewing on or if ribbons and ruffles needed pressing. A pretty array of fluffy gowns, pink, blue and white, were spread out on their laps, and tongues flew as fast as the needles.
“Oh, won’t we have the very best time?” Peggy Pierce was saying. “It will be the first real dancing-party I have ever attended. Of course we used to skip about to the tunes of the victrola at our home parties, but think of it, girls, at this dance there is to be a stringed orchestra from Buffalo and a caterer to serve the refreshments.”
“I wonder where Bertha and Betty are!” Adele had just said when the former maiden appeared with a letter in her hand.
“Girls!” Burdie exclaimed tragically. “The young man whom I invited can’t come.”
“Oh-h! Isn’t that too bad?” Doris Drexel declared.
And Betty Burd chimed in with “It won’t be a nice party at all if Bob Angel isn’t here.”
Then Peggy Pierce added to tease, “And some one was going to look so sweet in her fluffy pink dress. If Bob isn’t here, our flower will wilt, I fear.”
“Meaning, I suppose, a maiden named Rose,” Doris Drexel chanted.
“Who said Bob wasn’t coming?” Bertha flashed. She always defended Rosamond. “I’m sure I didn’t! I changed my mind about asking my brother and I invited Dick Jensen instead. Bob wrote that he would be at the party if he had to walk here on jagged stones.”