This precipitated another gale of laughter, and only the insistent knocking, known to be Margot’s, for her voice accompanied the demand, brought the two girls back from their gleeful frolic.
“You are coming down to dinner,” ordered Margot, trying to make sure that her command would be obeyed.
“I certainly am not,” fired back Rosa.
“But why? You can walk. I even heard you dance—”
“You ought to see me dance, Margot,” answered the irrepressible Rosa. “Hearing me, isn’t the half of it. Seeing me is well worth while. But, Margot,” down dropped Rosa’s tone to one of entreaty, “you be a lamb, and fix up a gor-gee-ous tray for me and Nancy. Just this once, Margot. You know how I feel—”
“Rosalind, I’m honestly afraid that Mrs. Fernell will blame me for your conduct.” Margot drew her lips into so straight a line they didn’t look like lips at all.
“Do come down, Rosa,” pleaded Nancy, feeling very uncomfortable because of this willful girl’s obstinacy. It was bad enough to be away from home, but to have to keep up this battle seemed unreasonable to Nancy.
“Not to-night. Please don’t any one ask me,” and again tears threatened Rosa’s eyes. “If you don’t want to bother with my tray, Margot, just ask Baldy when he has time. There’s—no—hurry—”
This appeal brought about the result plainly desired by Rosa, for not only did Margot agree to the request, but she went much further. She wrote out the dinner menu, and from this list of fine food Rosa made her selection, first politely consulting Nancy’s taste.
“We live so differently,” explained Nancy, who was now losing much of the natural timidity following her introduction into this home. “You see, we don’t even keep a maid—”