The telephone rang. Arthur answered it. He listened for a moment, then he said, “Yes, of course. We’ll be all right. Tell her not to worry.” He turned to the others. “Poor Granny’s so upset that she wants to stay near the hospital all night, so she can see Mrs. Dore the first thing to-morrow morning. She asked if we could get along by ourselves until Floribel came to-night and of course I said we could.”
“Of course we can,” Maida reassured him.
“Oh I’m so glad Granny can stay. It does seem as though everything came at once.”
“Things go by three’s,” Rosie asserted.
“Well what are our three?” Maida inquired. “There was Mrs. Dore’s accident, finding the baby and— What’s the third?”
“You wait,” Rosie prophesied loftily, “It’ll come. But now the thing to do is to get lunch. Thank goodness for all those cooking lessons we’ve had. Don’t you remember, Maida, that your father said that we’d never know when we’d be put in a situation that we’d be very glad we could cook.”
“What shall we have for luncheon?” Maida asked and her voice quavered a little.
“We’d better look into the ice chest and see what’s there,” suggested the practical Laura.
“Oh here’s all this nice stew left over from day before yesterday!” Rosie’s head was concealed by the ice chest door but her tone was that of one who has found diamonds. “That’s nice because all we’ve got to do to that is warm it up. I’ll attend to the stew.”
“And here’s some delicious tarts,” Laura exclaimed, “that Granny must have made this morning. We’ll have them for dessert.”