Part 15 (1/2)
”I couldn't eat another mouthful after the dinner we had to-night. It would be a physical impossibility,” declared Bab.
”Don't make any rash a.s.sertions until you see what I have provided for you in the way of a feast,” replied Olive, as she took a large, flat tin box from the lower compartment of the old-fas.h.i.+oned sideboard. ”Ruth,”
she continued, ”if you will draw the rugs up close to the fireplace we will lose no time in beginning the festivities.”
Ruth Stuart did so, arranging the rugs in a semi-circle. But the interest of the girls was centred on the tin box, not on the rugs, just at that time. Then Olive brought out five long, slender white sticks, which she distributed among the girls.
”Aren't you going to open the box?” begged Grace anxiously. ”Can't you see we are dying with curiosity to know what is inside?”
”Bab, you may open the box.”
The cover was off almost before the words had left Olive's lips.
”Marshmallows!” cried the girls in chorus. ”Oh, isn't that simply glorious?”
”And such a lot of them, too,” added Grace Carter.
”Five pounds,” Olive informed them. ”We are about to sit down to a marshmallow toast. Eat all you wish, but for goodness sake do not make yourselves sick.”
”She means you, Mollie,” teased Ruth.
”The coat doesn't fit me, however,” retorted Mollie. ”But I do love marshmallows. Do we toast them over the flames of the candles?”
”No,” replied Olive, as she placed the five-pound box of sweets on the rug between them and the fire. The girls sat down on the rug, with their feet curled under them. Each speared a marshmallow and thrust it close to the fire. Little blue flames rose from the white cubes and a tantalizing odor filled the air.
”Oh, dear me. Mine's gone into the fire,” cried Mollie in distress. ”It just melted away.”
”So did mine,” answered Barbara, ”but it melted in my mouth.”
”How nice of you to think of this, Olive. Thank you ever so much,”
glowed Grace Carter.
”This isn't my treat. My part is to carry out the little surprise. Mr.
Stuart sent out the marshmallows to me, asking me to give you girls a toast. It is a real treat, isn't it?”
”Glorious!” breathed the girls.
”Did you children ever do fire-gazing?” asked Olive after a moment of silence as the girls helped themselves to the sweets.
The ”Automobile Girls” confessed their ignorance of the game. Olive explained that each girl was to gaze into the fire then describe what forms or figures appeared to grow out of the flames or coals.
”I see a red automobile,” cried Mollie, almost as soon as she had fixed her gaze on the fire. ”And, oh, look at the man driving it! He is all in red, wears a pointed beard and has a cloven foot. Isn't he a frightful looking creature?”
”Your imagination needs no encouragement,” declared Olive. ”Let us hope that the gentleman with the cloven foot may drive his car up the chimney flue and fly away. What do you see, Ruth?”
”I see a fiery pit with a lot of imps dancing about, hurling b.a.l.l.s of fire at each other.”
”Your turn, Barbara.”