Mrs. Fabian accepted for herself and husband, and said she would see if the girls had any engagement. She came back to the living-room where they were waiting for dinner to be announced.
“Are you girls going out this evening, or have you any engagement at home?” asked she.
Nancy shook her head, and Eleanor replied: “For a great wonder, we haven’t a blessed thing on for tonight! First evening free in months!”
“Mr. Dalken wants us to come over and join some old friends, just for a nice visit,” ventured Mrs. Fabian, looking from one girl to the other.
“Fine! Anything but sitting here staring at Polly’s concerned face,” retorted Eleanor.
Mrs. Fabian smiled and went to answer Mr. Dalken, but Polly sat up and asked Eleanor what she meant by that.
“Oh, ask yourself, Polly, you’ve been mooning around all day looking like ‘Gottschalk’s Last Hope.’ One speaks to you, and you never hear what’s said. The very house could burn down but you’d never know it. You’d roast without feeling any sensation in it!” declared Eleanor, impatiently. Nancy laughed at both girls.
After dinner, while the girls were dressing to go to Mr. Dalken’s, Eleanor went to Polly’s room to be hooked up. When she saw Polly arrayed in one of her most fetching Paris dresses she stood and stared.
“Why! we’re not going to the Opera!” said she.
“We’re going to Mr. Dalken’s, aren’t we?” asked Polly.