Part 13 (1/2)

”Thanks,” said Nettie, determined not to be abashed by the teasing.

”We will have cake and lemonade,” proposed May Egner.

”I'm glad I only have to bring boys,” said Nettie aside, ”I couldn't bake a cake to save me.”

”And I'll bring a whole pan of fresh taffy,” volunteered Sarah.

”Put me down for two dozen lemons,” offered May Egner, who seemed to think the entire success of a lawn party depended upon the refres.h.i.+ng lemonade.

”Where shall we have it?” asked Alice.

The girls glanced around at the splendid lawn upon which the little meeting was being held. It was the MacAllister place, and had the reputation of being well-kept besides affording a recreation ground for the family--the secret of the combination lay in the extent of the grounds: they might be walked upon, but were never trampled upon. Mr.

MacAllister made it a rule that games should be kept to their restricted provinces, as the tennis court and croquet grounds: other games should never be indulged in on the range close to the house or near the paths. ”Plenty of room to play tag in the orchard,” he would tell the children, and this plan kept the place in an enviable condition.

”The schoolyard is awfully dry and dusty,” remarked Nettie in answer to the question of a site for the party.

”You are welcome to come here,” said Alice, modestly.

”Oh, that would be splendid!” declared May, whereat all the others voiced similar sentiments.

It was promptly decided that the invitation to hold the affair on the MacAllister grounds should be accepted with thanks, and as there remained not many hours of the day to attend to arrangements, as the next afternoon would bring them to the test, the girls hastily scattered to begin their respective duties in the matter.

Viola Green was present at the meeting. Alice had told her of its purpose, and as only a few days remained of the time allotted Viola to remain at Dalton, Alice was not sorry when her visitor pleaded another engagement.

That engagement consisted of a promise to walk through the Green with Tom Burbank--he, too, was a stranger in Dalton, spending a week of his holiday with the Bennet family.

Viola could boast of a well-filled trunk of stylish clothes, and in no other place, of the many she had visited during her vacation, had this wardrobe shown to such advantage as in Dalton. Even the attractive linens that Alice was invariably gowned in (except on Sundays, when she wore a simple summer silk), seemed of ”back date” compared with the showy dresses Viola exhibited. They were stylish in that acceptance of the term that made them popular, but were not distinctive, and would probably be entirely out of date by the following summer.

On this particular afternoon Viola wore a deep blue crepe with shaded ribbons, a dress, according to the feminine ethics of Dalton, ”fit for a party.”

Tom Burbank sported white flannels, a very good summer suit indeed, but a little out of the ordinary in Dalton. It was not to be wondered at, then, that the appearance of these two strangers attracted some attention on the Green. Neither could it be doubted that such attention was flattering to Viola, a stylishly dressed girl often enjoys being credited with her efforts.

”Wasn't that the greatest,” Tom was drawling to Viola, ”about those folks riding in the police wagon.”

”Disgraceful, I should say,” replied Viola, emphatically.

”And the fellow in the--farmer's duds. Wasn't he a sight?” and the young man chuckled at the thought of Nat in the overalls and jumper.

”And those two girls are going to Glenwood--the boarding school I attend!” and Viola's lip curled in hauteur.

”The d.i.c.kens they are! I--beg your pardon, but I was so surprised,”

said Tom.

”I don't blame you. I was equally surprised myself. In fact, I guess everyone was--they made up their minds so suddenly. I suppose--” Then Viola stopped.

”Well, what do you suppose?”

”Perhaps I shouldn't say it--”

”Why not? Can't you trust me?”