“Polly Osgood wants to see you, Catherine.”
Catherine, busily sorting linen in the up-stairs linen room a little later in the morning, leaned over the railing in answer to her mother’s announcement from the hall below.
“O, Polly, do come on up. I’ve a little more 37 to do and we might just as well talk while I’m at it. Have you called the Boat Club meeting?”
Polly Osgood came running up the stairs. She was a slender little girl with big blue eyes and yellow hair.
“Yes,” she answered brightly. “I’ve called it at ten. It’s almost that now. Tom can’t come, of course; he’s always so busy daytimes, but I think all the others will be there.”
“Hasn’t Bert something to keep him?”
“Not just now,” Polly laughed. “He substituted in the post-office last week, and the week before that in a hardware store, but just now he says nobody seems to need him, and he’s reading law in private.”
“He’s such a goose,” and Catherine put two mated pillow-cases together with a little pat. “Inga never knows enough to put things in pairs, and Mother wouldn’t dare begin to look them over. If she should do anything so domestic, half Winsted would break out with mumps or chickenpox. Where did you say we’d have the meeting?”
“At the boat house. We might as well use it, now we have it. But I didn’t know you broke out with mumps.”