"It isn't the thing to dress better than one's guests," said sly Gay, with a wise air. "You wouldn't want me to knock spots out of the girls, would you?"
"Mercy, no; you mustn't knock spots out o' them girls. They are the nicest in town, Miss May. No fighting with them, I beg of you. It was well enough, perhaps, to take hold of them boys, for they have tormented us to pieces all summer, but you mustn't think of knocking spots out of them fine young ladies."
"Oh, Margery, to knock spots out of anybody doesn't mean to fight them!"
"Doesn't it? Well, I'm glad of it," said Margery, with a sigh of relief.
When Gay was left alone he planned his campaign; he meant to distinguish himself and make his aunts proud of him, and to do this without thought was beyond his ability. "I'll say something to each one. That's the way mother does. I'll act just like Alice! That's a bang-up idea! And I mustn't forget that I'm a girl," thought he.
Having planned his line of conduct Gay went down into the drawing-room, where Miss Linn and Miss Celia sat in state, with a smiling decorum that would have reflected credit upon the sweetest little girl that ever lived—upon May, for example.
Very soon the guests, pretty, quiet little girls, with correct and agreeable manners, as became the descendants of Hazelnook's best families, began to arrive. Gay met them with the best imitation of Alice's manner that could be assumed at short notice; greeting them cordially and with such easy grace that anxious Miss Linn was delighted.
"I must begin to say something to each one," thought Gay. "It looks easy when mother does it, but I can't seem to get it in before they get out of the way!"
"May, this is Ethel Payne," said Miss Celia, who presented the girls to Gay.