"Because it makes the place too gay and frivolous. Old ladies of eighty were courted by awkward swains of ninety and more, and there was so much checker-playing in the evening and so many lights burning, and so many requests for new clothes, that the management couldn't stand it. There were heart-burnings and jealousies, too, so they had to adopt a policy of segregation."
"'Hope springs eternal in the human breast,'" quoted Allan.
"And love," she said. "I've thought sometimes I'd like to play fairy godmother to some of those poor, desolate old people who love each other, and give them a pretty wedding. Wouldn't it be dear to see two old people married and settled in a little home of their own?"
"Or, more likely, with us," he returned. "I've been thinking about a nice little house with a guest room or two, but I've changed my mind. My vote is for a very small apartment. You're not the sort to be trusted with a guest room."
Starting Off
Eloise laughed and sprang to her feet. "On to the errand of mercy," she said. "We're wasting valuable time. Get a horse and buggy and I'll see if I can borrow an extra suit-case or two for my purchases."
When she came down, Allan was waiting for her in the buggy. A bell-boy, in her wake, brought three suit-cases and piled them under the seat. Half a dozen rocking-chairs, on the veranda, held highly interested observers. The paraphernalia suggested an elopement.
"Tell those women on the veranda," said Eloise, to the boy, "that I'm not taking any trunks and will soon be back."
"What for?" queried Allan, as they drove away.
"Reasons of my own," she answered, crisply. "Men are as blind as bats."