"I will, and you must help me, for boys always have very strict ideas as to how their sisters should behave," said Ruth with a mischievous twinkle. "My, but I feel better," she added with a sigh. "You've been such an awful load on my conscience, Arthur Hamilton, that I haven't enjoyed one minute of my party. Now I'm going to have a good time."
She started toward the door of the library just as Joe's voice called from the music-room, "What under the sun are you two people taking so long about?"
Ruth flew back to Arthur in dismay. "Oh, in another second I should have walked straight back to my own side without choosing a thing," she gasped. "Do think of something quick."
Arthur shouted with laughter. "I'd have given anything if you had," he choked. "I should have liked to see your face when you came to."
"Mean boy!" she said sternly. "You can only pay up for that by thinking of something immediately, before I count five. One, two, three, four—-"
"The tip of Fuzzy's tail," answered Arthur, making a useless grab for the object in question as its small proprietor disappeared up the stairs.
"All right. But they'll guess it in a minute," declared Ruth as they took their separate ways. Contrary to her expectations it proved a hard one, and they were all in gales of merriment before Betty, whose thoughts turned easily to cats, started the questioning in the right direction. Charades came next, then a game proposed by Philip, and after that supper was announced.
Ruth, who had not been let into the secret of the final arrangements, felt a thrill of delight when she saw the pretty table. A tiny Christmas tree hung with glittering ornaments, and dotted with twinkling candies was the centerpiece, while a border of delicate green vine brightened with sprigs of holly ran all around the table. At the foot of the little tree were heaped mysterious parcels wrapped in white tissue-paper and tied with gold cord. Now Ruth knew what Arthur had been so busy over all the afternoon, for the place cards were small and very funny snapshots of the guests themselves, neatly mounted, and with the date in gold lettering.
"The mental effort of playing guessing games gives me almost an appetite," said Joe pensively, as he watched with hungry eyes a platter of chicken coming his way. There was a general shout at this, for Joe was always eating, and never hesitated to proclaim that he considered the serving of the refreshments the nicest part of a party.
"You have a fairly good appetite for a boy," remarked Ruth, "or for a white-haired lady either," she added demurely.