Priscilla's acceptance of this apology took Amy by surprise. She dropped her head on her visitor's shoulder—as Priscilla was tall and Amy was short, this was a feat requiring considerable dexterity—and burst into tears.
CHAPTER VII
THE FRIENDLY TERRACE ORPHANAGE
Priscilla's engagement, instead of interrupting her intimacy with her chums on Friendly Terrace, seemed to intensify it. Up to the night that she had walked with Horace in the park, and he had claimed her on the score of an affection dating back to Babylon, Priscilla had rather enjoyed informing Peggy and others that she would be unable to join in their plans for the evening, as she was expecting a caller. But now all this was changed. Instead, when Horace called up to suggest coming out, he was very likely to hear that his sweetheart of Babylonian days had an imperative engagement with Peggy, or Ruth, or Amy, or more probably with all three.
It was after an evening spent at a moving picture house that Peggy made a suggestion destined to have more momentous results than she dreamed. They had gone early to avoid the crowd which a popular film is likely to draw even in the warmest weather, and at nine o'clock they were occupying chairs on Peggy's porch, and discussing the heat. "How about ice cream?" inquired Amy, fanning herself with a magazine some one had left in the hammock.
Before any one could answer, Peggy had interposed with her astonishing suggestion. "Girls, I move we adopt a French orphan."
Amy forgot her interest in ice cream. "A French orphan," she gasped, "What for?"
"Well, there are plenty of reasons from the orphan's standpoint, and several from ours, it seems to me. Do you know we're getting extravagant."
"Oh, Peggy," Ruth reproached her. "Why, as far as clothes go, I never got along with so few in my life."