"But, Cora Kimball, do you suppose
we could make mythological frocks that would stand damp, night air?
Of course, they would be comfortable."
"Oh, we'll manage somehow. At any rate, we'll have a masked
'doin',' that's settled."
"That's all that really counts," said Bess.
"Masks?" questioned Cora. "Just mask in order to be of some
account? Not the blessed boys, and the jealous girls--and the
chances of pretending you mistake Jack for Walter--and you say a lot
of things you are just dying to say, and would not dare to say if
you weren't masked. All that--But hush! Here comes Jack!"
"Hello, girls," greeted her brother, and at the sight of Jack, Bess
and Belle adjusted themselves in more conventional attitudes. "How
are you all?" he went on. "Sis, here's a letter for you. I kept it
in my hand all the way from the post-office so as not to forget to
give it to you."
"Awfully kind of you, Jack."
Cora glanced at the postmark, and slipped the missive into the
large, loose sleeve of her gown.
"Oh, you may read it," spoke Bess, smiling frankly at Jack. "We
don't mind."
"Not in the least," came from Jack as he took a chair next to
Isabel. "In fact, we would be glad to have you do so.
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