WHEN THE DAY ARRIVED
Between that day at the beach and the day set for the first session to
the house party, Cara all but backed out several times. It was rather
absurd, to ask five girls to week-end at her lovely big home, the
Billows, to bring clothes enough for three days and to stay for almost
that length of time, when they all lived near enough to run home if
their mothers should call them—on the telephone.
But from the time that Cara mentioned the brilliant idea to Louise and
Esther, she was not allowed to change her mind. There is not a great
deal of excitement for girls of their ages at little sea-coast towns,
and the prospects of a house party were far too precious to
relinquish.
Mrs. Burke, Cara’s mother, was rather pleased that her athletic
daughter thought of anything so socially refining, for, as a rule,
Cara cared very little for the amenities. She liked, very much better,
to row their boat on the lake that always seemed to envy the wild
little wavelets that flew about the ocean’s edge, or she might stay on
the golf links all day with her dad, who believed in golf for girls as
well as for boys, and there was only Dudley at Burke’s to share honors
with his sister Cara.
So now that the day of the party was actually at hand, Cara felt like
“laughing her head off,” as she described her unusual emotions.
“If it wasn’t that I just made this chance to get acquainted with
Barbara Hale, Moma,” (she always called her mother Moma because it
means soft, in Celtic,) “I would be apt to think myself silly. But
it’s worth while to meet Barbara.”
“Why is she so difficult and desirable?” asked Mrs. Burke, who might
be Moma or “soft” to her daughter, but as a woman seemed quite the
opposite. She was capable of formality, fine, dignified yet lovely
with just that charm that all mothers should possess.
“Well,” replied Cara to her question, as she settled a final bunch of
snap-dragons on the long davenport table in the living-room, “to tell
you the truth, Moma, she’s a bit mysterious.”
“A girl—mysterious; how?”
“Oh, in a lot of ways. I couldn’t just tell you, darling, but they’re
plenty. Wait until you meet her,” she promised archly. “I’m sure you
will call her perfect; I believe all the grown-ups do. She’s said to
be so sensible.”
“Not too sensible, I hope,” qualified Mrs. Burke, who liked girls to
be girls and not Minervas.
“No. My own idea is that the sensible stuff is just a pose to keep the
girls away. She’s not cranky, I know that. I met her at the Community
Club last week,” continued Cara, who was now donning her white sport
coat, preparing for a race in town. “At any rate, Moma, I’m sure it
will do me a lot of good to know her,” she just nipped a make-believe
kiss on her mother’s cheek. “She might inspire me with a little
sense.”
“Oh, you’re not so bad, my dear,” replied the proud mother, surveying
Cara affectionately. “But I am really anxious to meet the paragon.”
A half-hour later Cara was being surrounded at the post office; the
girls who were shortly to be her guests formed the circle. She had
just told them that Barbara was coming.
“How ever did you get her?” demanded Louise.
“As easy as easy,” teased Cara. “All I did was just give the operator
the number and Barbara answered.” Cara was plainly proud of the
conquest.
“And she said she’d come? Right off?” asked Esther in uncovered
surprise.
“Said she would _love_ to, not what you might call exactly ‘right off’
but after her father had urged her to. He calls her Babs and they seem
to be great chums,” Cara finished, trying to break away from the party
and reach her mail-box.
“Oh, they are,” agreed Louise. “That’s just what makes her so
different. She’s always chumming with her father. Isn’t that queer?”
“Not so very,” said Cara dryly. “Dad and I are pretty good chums. But
I’ve got to rush or I won’t be at the front door to greet you when you
arrive,” and she did break away this time.
“Cara!” called Lida Bent, a new girl in Sea Cosset, “shall we really
bring our suit-cases?”
“Just as you like,” answered Cara, mischievously stepping back to make
her remarks safe for Lida’s ears only. “If you want to carry your
pajamas on your arm _I_ have no objection. There really isn’t any
obligation to carry suit-cases.”
“Now Cara,” blushed little Lida who was a dainty blonde and blushed
prettily, “you know I don’t mean that.”
“Well, Lida, you may bring a steamer trunk if you like,” joked Cara,
“only be sure to come. That’s the big idea,” and Cara Burke, the
heroine of the day with a house party only a few hours off, clutched
her bundle of morning mail as she escaped from her admiring friends.
Cara was always such a lark, they each and all were sure to be
thinking, and to give this affair simply sealed that opinion.
Louise, Esther, and Lida sauntered off with their own post office
material, but this today seemed less interesting than usual.
“I didn’t know whether to fetch my corduroy or silk robe,” said
Louise. “If we go romping around I suppose the silk——”
“Will be too thin,” Esther finished laughingly. “You’re lucky, Louie,
to have two down with you. Mother just won’t allow any duplicates in
my clothes. She hates baggage so.”
“A robe?” repeated Lida. “Why, I hadn’t thought of that. Of course we
must fetch robes,” she repeated showing alarm that the idea had almost
escaped her.
“That’s mostly what a house party is for,” Louise continued. “To show
off our pretty things. Although,” she hurried to atone for the
possible boast, “I don’t pretend to have _pretty_ things, they’re
just—just useful of course,” she ended trying hard to be sensible.
“There’s Ruth!” exclaimed Esther, as a girl with a big box turned a
corner and walked towards them. “I’ll bet _she’s_ got a new robe. Look
at that box.”
“’Low girls!” called out Ruth Harrison, a tall girl who walked with a
swinging stride. “I had to go shopping the last minute, and I’m dead.
Whew! It’s hot carrying bundles,” and she took off her hat to prove
it.
“A new robe? We were just talking about robes,” said Esther. “It’s
hard to know whether we ought to fetch bungalow aprons or—or ulsters.
Cara may have some kind of a midnight parade on, she’s such a joker.”
“Robe!” repeated Ruth. “Say, I never thought of a robe. This is a new
party dress; Cara told me about the dance only yesterday. But a robe!”
Ruth look dismayed. Her frank, eager face was suddenly changed into a
question mark. What should she do about a new robe? She had one, of
course, but probably not one worthy of Cara’s party.
“Don’t bother,” suggested Louise, noticing Ruth’s perplexity, “you can
just duck in and out——”
“Ye-ah! While you all parade. I can see that. But do you mean to tell
me I’ve got to wear my Indian blanket? It’s one I had at camp and I
love it——”
“Why don’t you? That would be fun,” spoke up Louise, brightly.
“The very thing and I’ll bring—— But never mind the details,” Ruth
suddenly drew up, getting a better grip on her box. “I’ll be there
with my blanket. I’ve got to rush. I want an ocean bath first.”
“Isn’t she funny?” remarked Lida, as Ruth dashed off.
“She’d love a thing forever, even an Indian blanket,” said Louise,
rather complimentary to Ruth.
“And an ocean bath today! Just as if she couldn’t have that every
day,” murmured Esther as they were again on their way.
“I hope she didn’t get a rose-colored dress, that’s my color,” went on
Louise. “And if two of us were dressed alike at that small party we’d
look like twins or something,” she finished, tittering happily at the
idea.
“Ruth is so much, so sort of—a lot,” Esther ventured, “she’s almost
twins herself. But here’s where we part. Be ready at three and we’ll
all go in our big car.”
“In style,” added Lida. “It’s lovely you have a big car, Esther.”
“And a good-natured mother,” added Louise. “I suppose she gave up
something, to drive for us this lovely afternoon.”
“She was glad to give it up,” confessed Esther, “for it’s a meeting on
the summer exhibit. I can’t see why towns always have to do summer
things that keep folks so busy.”
“Because there are not enough folks to do things in winter,” said
little Lida quietly. “Mother’s on a committee and she thinks it’s
going to be fine.”
“I guess they’ve got all our mothers on,” grumbled Louise. “But we
always have to have something every summer. Well, good-bye for a
while,” as they reached the little dividing park, “and I’ll be ready,
Esther.”
“Don’t forget your robe,” called out Esther jokingly, for their robes
had suddenly become an all-important item in the house-party
programme.