Part 6 (2/2)
”Ribbons and laces, and sweet, pretty faces,” chanted Ross, reminded of the old child-rhyme. ”'Sugar and spice, and everything nice.' Not much sugar about Miss Worthington Square, eh, Pete?”
”Oh, I don't know,” mused Peter, gazing absently out of the window toward the square, where Olive's spring finery was just fluttering out of sight. ”She 's not so bad at close range. I should n't wonder if an earthquake shock might stir her up into quite an interesting girl.
Lacking that, some lesser convulsion of nature might possibly----”
”The Bell family certainly did their best to shock her. If daddy and Nan could have just burst in from somewhere, I think the effect would have been complete,” declared Jane, merrily.
The subject of these comments, upon reaching home, found herself called upon for an opinion of the Bells.
Forrest Townsend, encountering his sister upon the stairs, followed her to her room.
”Own up that they 're not as odd as you thought,” he demanded.
”They 're very well--of their sort,” was Olive's reply, observing herself in her mirror, and congratulating herself on the fact that the new spring hat was undoubtedly becoming.
”See here, why not send Jane and Peter an invitation to your party?”
”'_Jane and Peter!_' You seem to be pretty intimate with them already.”
”I don't call them that to their faces. But you 've seen for yourselves they 're all right. Ask them over; it won't hurt you.”
”Why, Forrest Townsend--people who don't know a soul in our set! What an idea!”
”A mighty good idea. n.o.body 'll know they live in Gay Street--and you won't be ashamed of them either.”
”I shall not do anything of the sort.” Olive took off the hat and laid it in its box. ”I don't know what in the world has got into you and Murray; you 're both perfectly mad over the Bells. If you 're so charmed with that girl you can go and call on her, I suppose.”
She recalled with some surprise her own liking for Jane, wondering, now that her brother showed his prepossessions so strongly, how she could have fancied her. It seemed sometimes to be a matter of principle with Olive never to like the people whom Forrest or Murray liked.
”See here,” said Forrest, frowning, ”I think it's pretty ill-natured of you not to invite one or two persons I ask you to, whether you happen to want them or not. This party may be your birthday affair, but there 's no reason why somebody else should n't have a hand in the inviting.
Let's see your list, will you?”
Olive unwillingly handed him a sheet of paper, upon which the names of her prospective guests were written. He scanned it sharply.
”Same old crowd,” he observed, his handsome brows knit into a scowl. ”I should think you 'd want a little fresh blood, to liven things up.”
”For you to sit in a corner with, you mean.”
”Will you do it to please me?”
”No!” Olive s.n.a.t.c.hed the list out of his hand and returned it to a box, which she laid in a drawer of her desk.
Forrest stood looking at her for a moment, then, without a further word, shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the room.
Two hours later he came quietly back. Olive had gone out, as he knew.
He crossed the room to the desk, searched and found the box into which he had seen the list put, and discovered, as he had expected, the invitations to the birthday party folded and partially addressed. He knew that they were to go out upon the morrow, and that Olive doubtless would finish the task of addressing them that evening. He had heard her bewailing the fact that this labour consumed so much time, but he had not cared to offer to a.s.sist her.
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