she was ill. Perhaps she could wear it downstairs to breakfast sometimes—but it would make her feel shy and silly, and she could see the ostrich fronds getting into coffee and butter.
If only Christabel had telegraphed ahead! Then her room would have been all ready, and Katie could have gone out on Wednesday
Goodness! Not a thing in the house for dessert! She went to the telephone and called her husband.
"Fred! Christabel's here. . . . No, I didn't know. . . No—no, I don't know for how long. I'm very much worried. . . . I said I was worried. . . . I can't tell you now. . . . I said never mind now—but, Fred, listen, I haven't anything for dessert. Would you just stop at Bent's and bring home a quart and a pint of strawberry ice-cream? . . . No, they won't deliver this late—they'll put it in a nice container—a quart and a pint of strawberry. . . . I don't think so at all. Why on earth
