“Tell that to Betty,” retorted Frances. The table set, she had begun the slicing of a loaf of brown bread. “Our part of the feast is almost ready.”
“What’s that?” Hearing her name, Betty turned from her alert watch on the chafing dish containing the chocolate.
“Jane was merely reminding me of the frenzied galloping of time,” replied Frances. “She asked me to mention it to you.”
“The chocolate is ready, if that’s what she means,” smiled Betty, as she neatly circumvented its bubbling attempt to leave the safe confines of the chafing dish. “Bring me the chocolate-pot, please, Jane, and then draw up that little table, that holds the cups, beside the big one. We can manage to squeeze ourselves around the big one. Three strong-armed ladies can haul my cedar chest up to it, and sit on that. With one girl at each end and two on the other side we shall be all right.”
Laughingly complying with Betty’s directions, the seven friends gathered about the table. A combination of pimento cheese, brown bread, pickles, cold ham, olives, cocoanut layer cake and candy held for them no terrors. Blessed with good digestions and the proverbial schoolgirl love of spreads, they were quite ready to show their appreciation of the good cheer provided for them.
Over the merry little repast the subject of Blanche Shirly remained strictly taboo, though by no means forgotten. Secretly, each of the seven experienced a slight sense of depression. It arose from the knowledge that they had resolutely shoved something disagreeable into the background which would remain there but temporarily. The unexpected intrusion of Blanche Shirly into their plans for the coming reunion had served to cast a damper over them all. Anne and Betty had supported Ruth’s views for purely conscientious reasons. Remorse for past failings had actuated Emmy’s acceptance of the situation. Sarah and Frances had yielded partly from good nature, but largely because both adored Ruth and respected her convictions. Jane had been reluctantly won by Frances’ oration. Of the seven girls, she alone actually detested Blanche Shirly. While Emmy regarded Blanche with considerable contempt, Jane’s dislike for the frivolous, self-seeking girl was deep-rooted.
At three minutes before half-past ten the party broke up in a general rush for the door, punctuated by laughing goodnights. When the last guest had departed, leaving Jane and Betty to clear away the remnants of the spread, Jane spoke her mind to Betty.
“I think we are making a mistake,” she declared bluntly.
“About Blanche?” interrogated Betty quickly.
“Yes.” Jane wagged an emphatic brown head. “What we ought to do is to tell her flatly that we don’t want her. It would be more honest and save us a good lot of trouble later on. The longer I know Blanche, the less I like her. We couldn’t make her see things differently in a hundred years. I was surprised when Emmy gave in. She hasn’t any more faith in Blanche than I have. We all agreed to Ruth’s plan for Ruth’s sake. No one could stand out long against her ideas of right. Now that we’ve committed ourselves, we can only do our best. But remember what I say: Our best will be lost on Blanche.”