"That big actor man will put poor Fordy's nose out of joint with the film lady," Prue said. "Look out for that dog, Cis. It's the Perritons'. If you run over him——"
"Nasty little thing!" grumbled Cecile.
"And the apple of Sue Perriton's eye," drawled Marian. "Be careful what you are about, Cecile. It all lies with the Perritons whether we get into society this season or not."
"And that Mrs. Conroth who is with them," put in Prue. "She is the real thing—the link between the best of New York and Albany society. Old family—away back to the patroons—so old she has to keep moth balls hung in her family tree. My! if mother could once become the familiar friend of miladi Conroth——"
"No such luck," groaned Marian. "After all's said and done, mother can't forget the candy kitchen. She always looks to me, poor dear, as though she had just been surreptitiously licking her fingers."
"We do have the worst luck!" groaned the second sister. "There's that Dot Johnson coming. Mother says daddy insists, and when I. Tapp does put down his foot——Well!"
"We'll put her off on Fordy," suggested, the brighter-witted Cecile.
"She rather fancies Ford, I think."
"Dot Johnson!" chorused the older girls, in horror. "Not really?"
Marian continued. "The Johnsons are impossible."
"They've got more money than daddy has," said Prue.
"But they have no aspirations—none at all," murmured Marian, in horror. "If Lawford married Dot Johnson it would be almost as bad as his being mixed up with that picture actress."