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Updated: June 4, 2025
She unpacked her trunk and hung up her clothes with care and neatness which the Ethels admired. Ordinarily they would have praised her frankly for doing well what they sometimes failed to do well, but they had not yet recovered from the constraint that her remarks on the way home had thrown over them. It was not lessened when she mentioned that usually Gretchen did her unpacking for her.
"He says it's bad enough to make him remember not to cut corners when he's driving a car. Any break is too bad in my humble opinion." "In mine, too. How many in the Club? Ten?" "Ten; yes, sir. There'll be nine of us tomorrow evening Helen and the Ethels and Dorothy and Dicky and the two Watkinses and Margaret Hancock. She's going to spend the night with Dorothy." "Anybody from school?"
The schools were still in session so the Ethels and Dorothy at the graded school and Helen and Roger and the orchestra boys at the high school made themselves into an advertising band and told everybody all about the purpose of the festival. The scholars carried the information home, and there were few houses in Rosemont where it was not known that Mr.
"We'll bring her in to call on you," promised the Ethels, saying "Good-bye," and they went on feeling far more gently disposed toward their cross-patch neighbors than they ever had before. As for the "cross-patches," they looked after the carriage as long as it was in sight. When the girls returned to Dorothy's they found Edward Watkins there.
Katharine and the Jacksons' German maid, Gretchen, were among the first to get off. "Gretchen is going to make a holiday visit, too," Katharine explained when she had greeted the Ethels, whom she knew, and had been introduced to the other members of the party. Mrs.
For fear it would not turn out well because they had not been able to have the soil put in as good condition as they wanted on account of the disturbed state of the place with workmen constantly crossing, they had tried another pink garden at Rose House, and the Ethels had planted still another bed in their own yard.
"Hang your stocking on your outside door knob, Katharine," cried the Ethels. "We have Santa Claus trained to look there for it in this house." Mrs. Morton's prophecy was fulfilled. It was still black night when Dicky roused from his bed and sent a "Merry Christmas" ringing through the house. There was no response to his first cry, but, undaunted, he uttered a second.
It was only when we returned to our Ethel after long tramps over the country-side, from a four-miles-distant Norman tower or a ten-miles-away pre-Reformation abbey, now stable or granary, that we figuratively beat our breasts and tore our hair because Fate had not made us real tramps, privileged to sleep in pre-Reformation stables or 'neath pre-Reformation stars, rather than the imitation tramps we were, wedded to the habits but loathing the aspect of red-faced, staring Ethels.
To this there came a faint "Merry Christmas" from the top story where the Ethels were snuggled under the roof, and another from Helen's room beside his own. Katharine said nothing and not a word came from Roger, though there was a sound of heavy, regular breathing through his door. "Let's put on our wrappers and go down stairs into Katharine's room," suggested Ethel Brown. "It's lots too early.
"That man is your rival," they announced, smiling, to Mrs. Smith. "My rival! How is that?" inquired Mrs. Smith. "He wants to buy the field." They all exclaimed and looked again at the man who sat quietly eating his ice cream as if he had no such dreadful intentions. The Ethels, however, recognized him as he pushed back a lock of hair that fell over his forehead.
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