"But why don't you like her?" persisted Ruth, who was toasting herself in front of the open fire while Dorothy got out the materials for the chocolate.
"Oh, I don't know," answered Dolly with a shrug. "She's tiresome and inquisitive, and she's always coming round to make visitations on days when she ought not to be out, and then we girls or the boys have to see that she gets home safely. I can't help slipping out of her way whenever I can."
"Well, you certainly slipped this time," said Ruth with a laugh. "I didn't really know what was going to happen to me. What a good-timey looking room this is, Dolly," she went on, glancing about her. "I always feel when I am up here as if I can't go away until I've tried every one of these games."
It was a huge room, rather bare of ornament except for the pictures Frank and Dorothy had put up, but wholly suggestive of good times, as Ruth had said. Nothing was too good for use, and everything promised pleasure of the most wholesome kind.
"Father and mother like us to have our best times at home," said Dolly sipping her chocolate with a critical air, "and Frank and I have had this room for a playroom ever since I can remember."
"It must be fine to have a brother or sister," said Ruth wistfully.
"I don't think only children have half so much fun."
"They miss some quarrels, too," laughed Dolly. "Poor old Frankie! He's splendid discipline for my temper, for he can be the most exasperating boy I ever saw. I suppose I'm just as exasperating, though," she added honestly.
"Is that four o'clock?" asked Ruth suddenly. "Dear me, I must go, though I'd much rather stay here. Your chocolate is great, Dolly, and those nice little wafers were perfect with it."
"I hate to have you go, but I'll walk over with you just to get a little more air," said Dolly, settling her fur turban on her blonde locks. "Now we must go down softly, for Miss Cynthia may still be here. I dare say Frank is somewhere about, and mother can get him to take her home," she added, as if she half felt the need of an apology. "I'm sure it's his turn to go, anyway."
It was with the feeling of being guilty conspirators that the girls stole down-stairs and tiptoed softly across the hall, and they both jumped violently, when, even as Dorothy had her hand on the door-knob, Mrs. Marshall's voice called: