“Well,” said Gertie, eagerly, “we want you to promise us not to give Daisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon.”
A defiant look stole over Eve’s mischievous face.
“If he asks me, I’m to turn and walk off, or I’m to say, ‘No, sir, I am under strict orders from my marriageable sisters not to.’ Is that what you mean?”
“Eve,” they both cried in chorus, “don’t be unsisterly; don’t put a stumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!”
“I shall not bind myself to such a promise!” cried Eve. “You are trying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two are actually witches and guessed it. What put it into your heads that I had any such intentions anyhow?”
“Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest in that way,” cried Gertie, white to the very lips, “you insolent little minx!”
“I don’t choose to remain in such polite society,” said Eve, with a mocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. “I may take a notion to write a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him over here to see our household fairy, just as the spirit moves me.”
This was really more than Gertie’s warm, southern temper could bear. She actually flew at the offending Eve in her rage; but Eve was nimble of foot and disappeared up the stairway, three steps at a bound.
“What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!” she cried, pantingly, as she reached the top step.
She saw a light in Daisy’s room, and tapped quietly on the door.