"Marjorie and I," began Hollis, audaciously, pushing a chair into its place.
"Two," counted Morris, but his blue eyes flashed and his lip trembled.
"And Will and Linnet, four," began Marjorie, in needless haste, and father and mother, six, and Will's father and mother, eight, and the minister and his wife, ten, and Herbert and his wife, twelve, and Mr. Holmes and Miss Prudence, fourteen, and Sam and Harold, sixteen, and Morris, seventeen. That is all. Oh, and grandfather and grandmother, nineteen."
"Seventeen plates! You and I are to be waiters, Marjorie," said Morris.
"I'll be a waiter, too," said Hollis. "That will be best fun of all. I'm glad you didn't hire anybody, Marjorie."
"I wouldn't; I wanted to be primitive and do it all ourselves; I knew
Morris would be grand help, but I was not so sure of you."
"Are you sure of me, now?" he laughed, like the old Hollis who used to go to school.
After that Marjorie would not have been surprised if he had called her
"Mousie."
"Morris, what do you want to be a sailor for?" inquired Hollis, arranging the white rose in his button-hole anew.
"To sail," answered Morris seriously. "What do you want to be a salesman for?"