But after General Campbell’s death there were no more balls and dinners in the big, old house. The long parlors were seldom opened except to be cleaned and aired, and Miss Campbell, now a somewhat shrivelled pink and white little lady of fifty-five, interested herself only in the charities of West Haven.
“Yes, my dear children, this household and its mistress have got into such a lethargy that it is time they were waked up. We have been sunk in so deep a rut, my old servants and I, that it might have closed over our heads and the world gone on just the same.”
“Lots of poor families would have gone begging at Christmas, then, Miss Campbell,” put in Elinor.
“And what would all those poor old seamen have done?” went on Nancy.
“And the Blue Birds,” added Mary Price. “We should have had to use a corner of the gymnasium at school for our most secret society meetings.”
Miss Campbell paid the rent of the Blue Bird club rooms.
“And, pray, what should I have done?” finished Billie. “I should have been knocking around still with papa, trying to get on with the queer people who live in hotels, and never have had nice girls to go with or a delightful home to stay in.”
Miss Campbell blushed with pleasure.
“I have a great many surprises up my sleeve for my little Motor Maids. I shall only tell you one, though. What would you say to a Blue Bird Thanksgiving ball?”
“Oh, oh, oh! How splendid!” cried the young girls.