Part 49 (2/2)

”Now the plans, Honey. What are they?” Mr. Ashe said, looking at his watch. ”Have you had breakfast?”

”Uncle Cliff! An hour ago.”

”Well, I haven't. Suppose you get your things together--both of you--and come over to the hotel with me right away. The taxi is waiting.”

It didn't take the girls long to get their suitcases and run back to Mr.

Ashe.

”All ready?” he inquired.

”Just as soon as we say good-by to Miss North.”

At the hotel Blue Bonnet and Carita found themselves in the daintiest suite of rooms imaginable.

”I will come for you in twenty minutes,” Mr. Ashe said. ”Then we will go down to breakfast. I have a suspicion that you could eat another bite if you tried, while we talk over the plans. Suppose you have them all settled, Honey?”

”Yes, I have, Uncle Cliff. It's going to be very strenuous, too, I'm afraid. I hope you aren't awfully, _awfully_ tired.”

At which Uncle Cliff smiled one of his tender, adoring smiles, and patted Blue Bonnet's shoulder affectionately.

”I think I shall be equal to the demand,” he said, and was off.

In the dining-room a cosy table was found for three. Many a head turned in pa.s.sing to gaze at the little party, who, oblivious to time or surroundings, chatted merrily.

It was after they had left the dining-room, that Blue Bonnet, pausing at her uncle's door, asked Carita if she would mind going on to their rooms for just a minute: she had something she must say to Uncle Cliff alone--a secret.

”It's this, Uncle Cliff,” she said, when the door had closed, ”I want to talk something over with you before Aunt Lucinda comes. You see, I'm not quite sure she'd approve of it, and I want so much to do it. That is--I want to, if we can--without hurting anybody's feelings.”

”All right, Honey. What is it?”

She was holding on to Uncle Cliff's coat lapels now, and looking up into his face with the childish trust and confidence she had shown since babyhood, and the man's arm went round her as of old, protectingly.

”You see, it's this way, Uncle Cliff. There's that dinner for the Lambs and the We Are Sevens to-morrow night. Every single one of the Lambs ordered a new gown to wear. I didn't want them to--but they would do it--and--I'm afraid it's going to make the We Are Sevens sort of uncomfortable. So I was thinking, Uncle Cliff--I was _wis.h.i.+ng_ that--we--you and I, maybe--could have a little shopping expedition to-morrow morning and--”

She stopped short, not knowing how to go on without putting herself in the wrong light.

”You understand--don't you, Uncle Cliff? It isn't that I'd be ashamed of the girls; you know that. Their clothes are all right--only I know how girls feel not to be dressed quite like others. It makes them awkward and ill at ease, and--”

Mr. Ashe bent over and imprinted a kiss on the brown head, and for a moment his eyes were suspiciously bright.

”I understand perfectly, Honey,” he said.

”But just how could we do it, Uncle Cliff--get them some pretty things without making them think--that--that their things weren't right,--good enough, you know? It's an awfully delicate matter.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”SHE WAS HOLDING ON TO UNCLE CLIFF'S COAT LAPELS.”]

”So it is, Honey, but I think we can find a way. Was it some pretty frocks you wanted to give them?”

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