"Come on up, girls," called out Cora. "But please don't ask me to move. I'm in the most delicious heap."
"Exactly that!" exclaimed Isabel, who looked particularly pretty in a soft-blue summer gown, while Elizabeth was like some flower, in deep-pink muslin. "You do get into the most awful heaps, Cora, dear. But you never can rest without relaxing, and to do that—"
"Belle!" exclaimed Cora, "that is precisely why you never rest—you never relax your brain. You're always thinking of resting and not doing it."
Bess sank into a wicker chair and smothered the cushions. Bess was stout—"when she sat down," as Cora expressed it.
"Got your car ordered yet?" asked the hostess, passing around the box of chocolates. Neither girl could resist them.
"Oh, no," answered Belle. "Poor papa is in the greatest muddle. Every one in New City seems to have the best car to sell, and, as he wants a good one, he doesn't know which one to select."
"Why not ask Jack?" suggested Cora. "He's had lots of experience."
"Just what I proposed," replied Belle. "You, know how queer poor, dear papa is. He really dislikes motors."
"Seen Ida lately?" asked Bess.
"Not a sight of her," answered Cora. "I was hoping you might bring some news—not particularly about her, though, but some news. I am just pining for a real, choice bit."