“You are. Now what is it that you are quite right about?” Leila had caught the last sentence and risen to the occasion.
“Such support,” murmured Vera, as a laugh arose.
“Is it not now?” Leila blandly commented. “Never worry. There is little I would not agree with you in, Midget. Be consoled with that handsome amend. As for you singers and wandering musicians, you had better come with us.
“We’ll feed you on fine white bread of the wheat
And the drip of honey gold:
We’ll give you pale clouds for a mantle sweet,
And a handful of stars to hold.”
Leila sang lightly the quaint words of an old Irish ditty.
“Can we resist such a prospect?” laughed Phyllis. “How about it, girls? Is it on with the serenade or on to Baretti’s?”
“Baretti’s it had better be, since we are invited there by such distinguished persons,” was Robin’s decision. “Leila, you are to teach me that song you were just humming. It is sweet!”
Her companions were nothing loath to abandon their project for the evening in order to hob-nob with their Wayland Hall friends. They came to this decision very summarily. Now fourteen strong, the company turned their steps toward their favorite restaurant.
They were nearing the cluster lights stationed at each side of the wide walk leading up to the entrance of the tea room, when Lucy Warner stopped short with: “Oh, girls; I know something that I think would be nice to do.”
“Speak up, respected Luciferous,” encouraged Vera. “You say so little it is a pleasure to listen to you. I wish I could say that of everyone I know,” she added significantly.