“Yes. She wants to sing there. And perhaps she would be willing to sing for the hospital fund and in that way get Mr. Blair interested in her.”
“Mr. Blair—Bertha Blair. Humph! Funny, isn’t it?” drawled Amy. “But on the other hand, there’s little Hen who is Bertha’s cousin. Guess Mr. Blair is no relative of little Hen,” and the gay girl laughed.
Oddly enough the freckled little girl was the first person they saw when the car rolled into the Norwood place. Henrietta, dressed in her mended taffeta silk and silk stockings, stood on the lower step of the house eagerly looking down the drive. The Roselawn girls had not seen her since the week of the Water Thrush.
“Oh, Miss Jessie!” she cried when Chapman had brought the car to a halt. “I got an invite for you; and for Miss Amy, too.”
“An ‘invite’?” asked Jessie, somewhat puzzled.
“Yep. It’s coming off to-night. Mrs. Foley almost forgot it.”
“What did she almost forget?” Jessie pursued, while, as usual, Amy broke into laughter.
“’Tain’t nothing to laugh at,” declared the odd child. “But having six—and all boys—it’s not to be wondered at.”
“Do tell us what it is you are trying to say?” begged the amused Jessie. “And what have Mrs. Foley and her six boys got to do with it?”
“Everything,” said Henrietta promptly. “Anyway, Billy has something to do with it. It’s his birthday and his party you’re invited to.”