“Is it?” asked Thomason. He seemed incredulous.
“It will be. Jack will let you know when. You look at him once in a while and do just as he does.”
There was an explosion of shrill laughter in the adjoining room, and then the McKelvey girls appeared.
They seemed quite startled and ready to run, even after they saw Mrs. Harrod.
But Mrs. Harrod reassured them. “Come right in,” she called cordially. “It’s to be a play, and as yet we have a miserably small audience.”
They drifted a little farther into the room, wide-eyed.
It was here that Clifton rebelled. “Oh, look here,” he protested, “it will look so silly!”
“Just because we have an audience!” retorted Bonnie May blankly. Then, with feeling: “If you’ve got used to playing to empty seats, it will do you good to have somebody looking at you. Now, do be sensible.”
“I shall be awfully disappointed not to see the play—that is, the third act,” protested Mrs. Harrod.
“Well, go ahead,” said Clifton. But he looked decidedly shamefaced.