“I wonder if we’ll ever all be together again,” sighed Cecily.
“I wonder when I’ll get jam turnovers like this again,” said the Story Girl, trying to be gay but not making much of a success of it.
“If Paris wasn’t so far away I could send you a box of nice things now and then,” said Felicity forlornly, “but I suppose there’s no use thinking of that. Dear knows what they’ll give you to eat over there.”
“Oh, the French have the reputation of being the best cooks in the world,” rejoined the Story Girl, “but I know they can’t beat your jam turnovers and plum puffs, Felicity. Many a time I’ll be hankering after them.”
“If we ever do meet again you’ll be grown up,” said Felicity gloomily.
“Well, you won’t have stood still yourselves, you know.”
“No, but that’s just the worst of it. We’ll all be different and everything will be changed.”
“Just think,” said Cecily, “last New Year’s Eve we were wondering what would happen this year; and what a lot of things have happened that we never expected. Oh, dear!”
“If things never happened life would be pretty dull,” said the Story Girl briskly. “Oh, don’t look so dismal, all of you.”
“It’s hard to be cheerful when everybody’s going away,” sighed Cecily.