“‘Beautiful soup so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!’”
“‘Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful soup,’”
continued Rosomond, seizing Merry’s hands and whirling with him up and down the hall until they both fell in a laughing heap on the floor.
“Oh, we have had such a good time,” cried Billie and Mary together, taking each a hand of Mrs. St. Clair.
“It has been such glorious fun,” went on Billie, “and we are just as hungry for supper as if we hadn’t eaten enough food to feed a regiment this afternoon.”
“And such fine food, too, Mrs. St. Clair,” said Mary. “I think it was the most delightful party I have ever been to.”
“I am glad you were so happy,” replied Mrs. St. Clair, making an effort to smile and succeeding very poorly.
Mary, who was as sensitive to changes in manner as an aeolian harp is to the slightest breeze, looked at her hostess quickly and noticed the red rims on her eyelids.
“Aren’t you feeling well, dear Mrs. St. Clair?” she asked gently.
Mrs. St. Clair put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and looked into the clear dark eyes.
“I am quite well, Mary. A little upset over something that happened to-day. That is all.”