“And let’s not have our witches all in black, since the wizards will be, I suppose. Let’s have yellow and black, or red and black, or—something!”
“Why not have each order of witches dressed differently?” asked Molly.
“In other words, each girl have a separate costume?” said Bess, in smiling reference to their limited numbers.
“I suppose so,” Molly replied, “but we’ll probably have more girls in outdoor things, won’t we?”
“That is to be decided,” spoke Jean quickly. It would not do to talk of this as yet. Molly would have everybody, dear girl that she was, but it would not always do. “By the way, girls, Dad said that we wanted to be careful not to make any of the boys mad about us or get mad ourselves—of course he did not put it that way, but that was what he meant. He heard me gibbering to Mother about things, you know. I’ve had to tell her quite a lot, of course. But I told my father that we were being ‘just wonderful’ not to get provoked at the names the boys make up for us, and that we were planning to entertain the Black Wizards, provided they would condescend to an attic party. Dad just laughed and told me that if we advertised plenty of refreshments he thought that the Black Wizards would come. I said that we liked eats ourselves and that the attic party would be a real supper, moreover, he could come up and have supper with us!”
“I think that your father is just too nice for anything,” cried Bess, warmly. “Just think of all the trouble and expense, too, in fixing this up for us!”
“Dad likes to do things to the house, Bess. Besides he said he hoped we’d wake this sleepy old town up and show the folks what boys and girls needed in this ‘day and generation.’ I don’t imagine that he wants us to do anything startling, though.”
Here there was an interruption from Nan. “Being secretary to this club is just awful. Do you want me to put down all your old suggestions, or wait till we really do something?” Nan was holding up her pencil with a comical expression of despair.
“No, Nan,—you might make a few jottings of anything you think is important, for fear the person that makes the suggestion might forget it. This is not a formal meeting, anyhow.”
So spoke the president, and Nan replied with a twinkle, “When have we had a formal meeting? Tell me that!”