Gretel dried her eyes; she was beginning to be interested.
“I should love to hear him,” she said, “and your sister, too. Do you think Mrs. Marsh would let me?”
Dora looked a little doubtful.
“Well, I don’t know,” she admitted. “She’s got awful fussy notions about girls having company, even their own relations. But I’ll tell you what we might do. Mrs. Marsh and Miss Ada are both going out to dinner to-morrow night and I might get the kids to come round and play for you while they’re out. They’d be real proud to have the chance to show off.”
“It would be very pleasant indeed,” agreed Gretel, “only—only do you think we ought to have them if Mrs. Marsh objects?”
Dora reddened indignantly.
“If Mrs. Marsh wants to keep a decent girl, she’s got to let her have a little liberty,” she declared defiantly. “If anybody can show me where the harm is in my having my little sister and brother to spend the evening with me, I’d like to have them do it. Nobody’s going to do any harm, and a person’s got to have a little amusement once in a while. I’ve been in this house nearly six weeks, and not a living soul have I had to see me since I came.”
“I’m quite sure Father wouldn’t have minded,” said Gretel; “he always wanted people to be happy, but Mrs. Marsh isn’t the least like Father.”
“I should say she wasn’t. Why, what pleasure do you ever have yourself, you poor little thing? It’s nothing but run errands and wait on that lazy Miss Ada from morning till night. It makes me sick, that’s what it does. But you’re going to have a little fun this time, and don’t you forget it. I’m going right off this minute to send a postal to Lillie, to tell her and Peter to come round here and play and sing to you to-morrow evening.”
It was nearly midnight when Mrs. Marsh and her daughter reached home. Mrs. Marsh was tired and sleepy, and she was not speaking in her “company voice” as she let herself in with her latch key, and switched on the electric light.