After dinner they all snapped costume crackers and adorned themselves with the caps that they discovered inside them, and they set the new Victrola going and danced the butterfly dance that they had learned at Chautauqua and had given at their entertainment for the Christmas Ship. Dusk was coming on when the Ethels said that they must go to the Old Ladies' Home or they would have to run all the way. Grandfather Emerson offered to whirl all of them over in the car, and they were glad to accept the offer.
They stopped at home to get the boxes of candy which they had prepared. It was while they were running up stairs to gather them together that Katharine asked Ethel Blue if Mary might press a dress for her.
"I want to wear it this evening," she said.
Ethel Blue gasped. Mary had not yet come back from Mrs. Smith's where she had served dinner for the large party and was still occupied in clearing up after it. Supper at home was yet to come. Mrs. Morton had always urged upon the girls to be very careful about asking to have extra services rendered at inconvenient hours, and a more inconvenient time than this hardly could have been selected.
"Why, I don't know," Ethel Blue hesitated.
"Oh, if you don't care to have her—" replied Katharine stiffly.
"It isn't that," returned Ethel miserably. "Mary's always willing to do things for us, but you see she's had a hard day and it isn't over yet and she won't have any holiday at all if she has to do this."
"Very well," returned Katharine in a tone that made Ethel feel that her friend considered that she was being discourteous to her guest. "I can find something else to wear this evening, I suppose."
She looked so like a martyr that Ethel was most unhappy.
"If you'll let me try it, I can use the stove in our own little kitchen," she offered, referring to the small room where Mrs. Morton allowed the girls to cook so that they should not be in the way of the servants.