“We must give the Glen Point people time to get over, if Roger can restrain his appetite a trifle,” urged Ethel Brown.
“We’d better have Della and Tom stay all night so they’ll be here on time,” urged Ethel Blue. “I can’t get over New Haven being near enough for Tom to go back and forth so easily. I always thought it was as far off as Boston.”
“I declare I almost weep every time I think of Ethel Blue’s leaving the club,” sobbed Tom with loud groans.
Ethel Blue tossed a pillow at him.
“Stop making fun of me,” she said with her pretended severity.
“Ethel Blue was the founder of this club. Don’t forget that,” said James gravely.
“Don’t be so solemn, people; you’ll make me bawl,” and Ethel Blue looked around her wildly, as Ethel Brown made a dive into her pocket for her handkerchief, and Della sniffed.
“Stop your nonsense, children,” urged Helen. “Let’s make a list of what we are going to do at our breakfast. First, what shall we eat?”
The discussion waxed absorbing, but when it came to the arrangement of a program it was found that there seemed to be fewer ideas than was customary among them.
“What’s the matter?” asked Helen. “Usually we’re tumbling over ourselves suggesting things.”