“Sorry you don’t know a Gates Ajar when you see it,” said Tom, grinning.
“I do,” said Billy decidedly. “That isn’t one. Here are your roses, Winnie. You look like somebody’s step-mother in all that train and glasses. Where did you get them?”
“Winona!” called Louise, tearing downstairs, “I’ve just remembered that Clay has been calling the fritters ‘crullers’ ever since we made them. He’ll send them in with the ice-cream if he isn’t told not to.”
She fled to the kitchen.
“Step-mother.... M’m,” said Tom with a light of mischief in his eye; and followed Louise.
“Look at the table!” Winona implored Billy.
Billy looked, took in the whole effect, and, as Winona had done, sat down to laugh in comfort.
“It’s not so bad, after all,” he said comfortingly when he was through. “Let’s take the bones out of these green wicket-things, and lay the vines straight across the table. They’ll get into the eats, likely, but we can’t stop for that. Can’t you do anything with that gridiron ajar? I should think the stuff on it would look all right around a low bowl of roses.”
“Maybe it would,” said Winona with renewed courage, and set to work stripping it while Billy took the supports from the smilax arches, and laid it flat, with an occasional rose at intervals. They found a low, wide bowl that, filled with roses, and wound with smilax, made an excellent centerpiece.
Winona stepped back to view the general effect with a sigh of satisfaction.