“Now, what should you like to do?” asked Jim, when they finally rose from the table. “A movie?”
“I don’t know, Jim,” said Miss Ashton with some hesitation. “I should not like to be considered a spoil-sport, but it is half-past nine now, and we have had a most strenuous day. I think the girls had better forego the joys of the screen for the benefit of a little rest.”
She had been looking at her party while they were at dinner, and saw how tired and excited they all were; and she didn’t want to send the girls home looking like that. So after a stroll through the hotel, they returned to the apartment.
“I’m not going to ask you boys to come up,” said Miss Ashton, as they got out of the taxi. “But, let me see. To-morrow we’re going out to your house, Jim, for afternoon tea. In the morning we hope to go to church. Monday, these girls are going home. Suppose to-morrow night you all come here for a farewell supper. We’ll be crowded, but I know you won’t mind.”
The exclamations of delight with which her invitation was received fully repaid her for any work which it would entail.
Packing themselves away for the night in Miss Ashton’s tiny apartment was a problem, and they had so much fun over it that all inclination for sleep was destroyed.
The living room had what Martha persisted in calling a “wall bed.”
“Mart, it’s a Murphy bed!” protested Jeanette, whenever it was mentioned.
“That may be its official name,” retorted Martha; “but it comes out of the wall, just the same.”
“Suppose you and Jeanette sleep here, Nancy,” suggested Miss Ashton, pulling it out. “Martha can take the davenport. We’ll push it over to the other side of the room.”