“Mr. Wake and Sam will come,” I said, after we had decided to buy those cracker things that pop and have paper caps in them, and Leslie had said she would donate some pastries and some French chocolates.
“Mr. Wake would be fearfully bored,” she objected.
“I don’t believe it,” I disagreed.
“But with Miss Meek and Miss Bannister and Mr. Hemmingway? For of course if we have it here we’ll have to ask the old things!”
“Probably it’ll be the first party they’ve been to in years,” I stated, and I saw that Leslie felt a little mean.
“Well, I’d tell him that the whole institution will be on board,” she advised, and I said I would.
“Beata would serve,” said Leslie, who seemed to have a lot of head about planning the refreshments and how they should be brought on.
“And she’d like it,” I commented, “probably it’ll help her out.”
“What’s the matter with her, any way?” Leslie asked, and I’d told Leslie about forty times, but I told her once again.
“How much does she need?” she asked, as she lay back and again looked up at the ceiling.