“I am good, gooder, goodest,” stoutly protested the warbler. “Also I have an inspiration. It’s a how-to-be-helpful-to-Blanche stunt. In due season I will reveal it to Jane. I can depend upon her to help me carry it out.”
“Not until I know what it is,” was Jane’s canny stipulation. “Tell me now.”
“No, my child. We are of a too nearness to the cottage. We must observe great caution, or our victim, I mean our candidate for helpfulness, may overhear and thus forfeit a delightful surprise.”
As it happened, the aforesaid candidate had already heard. What Betty had partially accomplished, Frances’ high-pitched lilt had perfectly completed. Blanche had been in the act of lazily sitting up in her bed when Frances’ clear tones had assailed her ears. The tuneful announcement, “But Blanche sleeps on forever,” had acted upon the displeased listener with dynamic force.
Hastily swinging her feet to the floor, she had pattered to the open window where, concealed by the swaying folds of the white scrim curtain, she had angrily listened to the ensuing remarks, which floated plainly to her ears. With the muttered exclamation, “Deceitful things!” she rushed from the window, and began to dress with an energy quite at variance with her usual languor. So Frances Bliss and Jane Pellew were planning to play some hateful trick on her! Very well. Forewarned was forearmed. She would lose no time in showing them that they had best leave her alone. Furthermore, she would impress it upon them in a fashion they would not relish.
CHAPTER VIII
BLANCHE LIVES UP TO HER REPUTATION
Once the bathing party had retired to their rooms, they made short work of discarding their wet suits for comfortable middy blouses, bloomers and blue uniform skirts. Though Blanche had begun her dressing prior to their return, they preceded her entrance into the dining room by several minutes. As a matter of fact, the Equitable Eight and Miss Drexal were patiently engaged in awaiting her coming, when she appeared among them, head held high, the picture of offended dignity.
“Good morning, Blanche,” greeted Miss Drexal pleasantly. She calmly ignored the signs of ill-humor, written large on the girl’s set features.
“Good morning.” Nodding stiffly to her hostess, Blanche swept wrathfully down upon Frances, who stood by a window talking to Anne Follett.