Florrie opened the dainty, perfumed note and read it with a face that, puzzled at first, suddenly grew radiant.
"Listen, Jack," she said excitedly.
"Dear Florrie:
"Nan is confined to house, room, and sofa with a sprained foot. As she will be all alone this afternoon, won't you come down and spend it with her? She very much wants you to come—she is so lonesome and thinks you will be just the one to cheer her up.
"Yours cordially,
"Maude Wallace."
"Are you going?" asked Jack.
"Yes—I don't know—I'll think about it," said Florrie absently. Then she hurried upstairs to her room.
"Shall I go?" she thought. "Yes, I will. I dare say Nan has asked me just out of pity because I was not invited to the picnic. But even so it was sweet of her. I've always thought I would like those Wallace girls if I could get really acquainted with them. They've always been nice to me, too—I don't know why I am always so tongue-tied and stupid with them. But I'll go anyway."
That afternoon Mrs. Wallace came into Nan's room.
"Nan, dear, Florrie Hamilton is downstairs asking for you."