“Oh dear!” thought Jo, when she saw her cousin’s activity, “if she had only helped me like that sooner, how much nicer it would have been having visitors.”
Jo arranged the flowers; Martendijk the card-tables; Emily superintended the supper; and by mid-day everything was ready.
Emily went to take a nap, while her hostess did the same, so as to be bright and fresh when the evening came.
And so probably she would have been, after a quiet undisturbed sleep; but the little patient grew worse about the middle of the day; and when his father came home, he saw at once that the child was feverish.
“Oh, dear Max,” sighed Jo, “what a worry! A sick child, and that party in the evening!”
“Party!” cried Max, to his wife’s great consternation. “It’s out of the question. Did you think I’d ever allow that? Certainly not. What a mad idea to think of having people here to-night! Emily’s at the bottom of that, I’ll be bound.”
“No, indeed, dear. I was quite anxious for it too,” pleaded Jo, shielding her guest at the expense of her own truthfulness. “And oh, Max, Emily has been so good; she arranged everything, and I have had nothing at all to do.”
“Of course she helps you now, as it’s her party, and she is bent on having her own way,—but I’ll soon see who is master in my house. The party will not go on, I tell you. I’ll have the people put off. Where are the boys?”
Van Elst had spoken so loud in his passionate outburst, that it needed no eavesdropping to find out his intentions; and perhaps that was the reason that Emily appeared so opportunely just then.
“Oh! excuse me, cousin,” he exclaimed apologetically, running against her in his hurry. “Do you know where the boys are?”