"The note says, 'the Misses Parlin,'" said aunt Louise, gravely. "That might mean your grandmother, but it doesn't! I take it to mean the young ladies, Madge (or Mig) and Louise, your beautiful aunties, who are often called 'the Misses Parlin.' Of course it can't mean two little slips of girls in short dresses!"
Susy burst into tears, and tried to talk at the same time, but nobody could understand her.
"O, O!" moaned Prudy, burying her face in the roller-towel, "if I can't go I shall just lay down my head and cry!"
"It's not true, children, not one word; she's only joking," said aunt Madge, laughing and shaking the egg-beater at her sister. "I'm really ashamed of your aunt Louise for trying to tease you. What do you suppose any body wants of old grown-up folks at your nice little party? There, there, don't laugh quite so loud. Run away, and stay away, if you want me ever to do any thing."
In a few moments the children were playing out of doors in high spirits, and Prudy had told the workmen, in her pretty, lisping way, "that every one of we children were invited to a jispy supper; had a ticket come a-purpose, so of course we should have to go!"
The children were too much excited to do their morning work properly. Grandma could not tell by the looks of the piazza whether Susy had swept it or not, and had to go and ask.
"She's swept it off," said Prudy, speaking for her, "but she didn't sweep it way off!"
"I should judge not," said grandma; "and here is Prudy, with her bib on yet, and Grace hasn't made her bed. Do you think such children ought to go to a party?"
"O, grandma," cried Prudy, "you know we had a ticket come a-purpose!"
"I'm ashamed," said Grace, promptly. "Susy, you and I are too big to act so. Let's go and do up our work right nice, and then see if we can't help grandma."