Anne, despite her affection for Rusty, was not especially fond of cats, but
Mrs. Gardner’s tone annoyed her. Inconsequently she remembered that Mrs.
John Blythe was so fond of cats that she kept as many as her husband would
allow.
“They ARE adorable animals, aren’t they?” she said wickedly.
“I have never liked cats,” said Mrs. Gardner remotely.
“I love them,” said Dorothy. “They are so nice and selfish. Dogs are TOO
good and unselfish. They make me feel uncomfortable. But cats are gloriously
human.”
“You have two delightful old china dogs there. May I look at them closely?”
said Aline, crossing the room towards the fireplace and thereby becoming the
unconscious cause of the other accident. Picking up Magog, she sat down on the
cushion under which was secreted Priscilla’s chocolate cake. Priscilla and Anne
exchanged agonized glances but could do nothing. The stately Aline continued
to sit on the cushion and discuss china dogs until the time of departure.
Dorothy lingered behind a moment to squeeze Anne’s hand and whisper
impulsively.
“I KNOW you and I are going to be chums. Oh, Roy has told me all about
you. I’m the only one of the family he tells things to, poor boy—nobody
COULD confide in mamma and Aline, you know. What glorious times you girls
must have here! Won’t you let me come often and have a share in them?”
“Come as often as you like,” Anne responded heartily, thankful that one of
Roy’s sisters was likable. She would never like Aline, so much was certain; and
Aline would never like her, though Mrs. Gardner might be won. Altogether,
Anne sighed with relief when the ordeal was over.
“‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are it might have been,’”
quoted Priscilla tragically, lifting the cushion. “This cake is now what you
might call a flat failure. And the cushion is likewise ruined. Never tell me that
Friday isn’t unlucky.”
“People who send word they are coming on Saturday shouldn’t come on
Friday,” said Aunt Jamesina.
“I fancy it was Roy’s mistake,” said Phil. “That boy isn’t really responsible
for what he says when he talks to Anne. Where IS Anne?”
Anne had gone upstairs. She felt oddly like crying. But she made herself laugh
instead. Rusty and Joseph had been TOO awful! And Dorothy WAS a dear.