had off their tops, and gazed distressfully down into clear water.
“It went and melted!” said Calista, resentfully.
In a way, she regarded it as her personal failure, since the ceremony had been her suggestion in the first place.
“Never mind, Calista,” we said, “you didn’t know.”
Calista freely summed up her impressions.
“How mean!” she said.
We gravely gathered up the china plates and turned toward the house—and now I was possessed of a really accountable desire to get the plates back in their places as quickly as possible.
On the way a thought struck us simultaneously. Poor Grandma Bard!
“Let’s all go to see her to-morrow anyhow,” I suggested—largely, I am afraid, because the memory of my entertainment there was still fresh in my mind.
When, after a little while, we came round the house where the older ones were sitting, and heard them discussing uninteresting affairs, we regarded them with real sympathy. They had
