“Working hard on the essay, I suppose, so they came in early in order to have a long evening. Are you going in for it, Trix?”
“No, I’m too old and grown-up for prize essays,” laughed Trix. “But I hope you’ll win out. Of course you know that, Lambikins.”
“I want to, for dad’s sake,” replied Gloria evenly, “and I really do love the subject. It’s no trouble at all to write it.”
“I imagine you would love it. Now slip into the phone while I flag the others. Don’t get excited and don’t make any rash promises.”
Ten minutes later Gloria emerged from the booth, her cheeks aflame and her eyes shining.
“Whew!” she whispered to Trixy. “That was some message. I’m not sure I succeeded in allaying Mrs. Corday’s fears for Jack. Somehow she already had the news.”
“Want a soda? You look puffed out,” commented Trixy, beckoning the clerk. “Take your time, Glo, the others have all gone. Just as you suspected, they are in for the prize. It seems Jean’s mother is a Daughter of the Wars, and the Daughters, it also seems, are interested in the success of the contest. And harken! If you win the prize you may have cash or the especially struck off medal. You should have heard what the girls are going to buy for the cash consideration,” Trixy enjoyed the joke.
“I suppose so,” Gloria was fanning with the soda list and still panting. Presently she said, “Trixy, there is something queer about Jack’s Steppy. I don’t wonder Jack wants to keep her away from carping critics. She got so excited I thought she would short circuit the system.”
Trixy laughed. “Then you are not sure you have forestalled her coming?”
“No, I’m not.”