“That’s the way it would go if you did it, even if it was sitting fishing in a pond where there wasn’t one fish to bite!” declared Mary, rumpling Florimel’s black hair and laughing as she shook her lightly and kissed her hard.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WISE TO RESOLVE AND PATIENT TO PERFORM”
“Now, small madrina,” said Jane, coming into the library where her mother sat before the hearth upon which Mark was laying a fire in deference to the cool dampness of the evening; “you are to be told something, and implored something, and you must be very, very good and ready to say yes to a polite beggar.”
“I’d be surer to say yes to a rude beggar, because I’d be afraid of him,” Mrs. Garden said. “Please don’t ask me to go on a picnic, Jane; I loathe picnics.”
“Not a picnic in my possession!” declared Jane. “But that’s mind reading! How did you guess I had any sort of festivity in my mind?”
“Jane, if I dared permit myself an ancient bit of slang, I’d say I’d no idea you had festivities in your mind, that I thought Vineclad festivities were all in your eye! I’ve been here over two months and the gayest times I’ve seen were our own garden party—and that was nice—and some depressing teas. I do wish I dared hope your festivity were festive!”
“Madrina, we’re going to get up——”
“Well, it’s encouraging to hear you’re the originator of the affair, Jane,” Jane’s mother interrupted her energetically. “You are my daughters; more likely to think of something I’d enjoy. Tell me!”
“We are going to get up something, we don’t know what; we’re counting on you to tell us, to raise a little money for the Day Nursery that Joel Bell said was needed over there. Don’t you think we ought to?” Jane tried to look noble. Her mother laughed and Mark applauded with the tongs.