“But, look at your grand buffet. How clever of you! One of you two children must have a genius for arrangement.”
The study tables had been placed at one end of the room close together, their crudities covered with a white cloth borrowed from Mrs. Murphy, and on these were piled the viands in a manner to give the illusion of great profusion and plenty.
“It’s Molly,” laughed Nance; “she’s a natural entertainer.”
“Not at all,” put in Molly. “I come of a family of cooks.”
“And did your cook relatives marry butlers?” asked Judith.
Molly stifled a laugh. Somehow Judith couldn’t say things like other girls. There was always a tinge of spite in her speeches.
“Where I come from,” she said gravely, “the cooks and butlers are colored people, and the old ones are almost like relatives, they are so loyal and devoted. But there are not many of those left now.”
The room was gradually filling, and presently every guest had arrived, except Frances Andrews.
“We won’t wait for her,” said Molly to Lillie and Millie, the two inseparable sophomores, who now quietly slipped out. Presently, Nance, major domo for the evening, shoved all the guests back onto the divans and into the corners until a circle was formed in the centre of the room. She then hung a placard on the knob of the door which read:
MAHOMET, THE COCK OF THE EAST,
vs.
CHANTECLER, THE COCK OF THE WEST.