Almost as he spoke there was a low, "all right now," from Joe, and Arthur threw the door wide open. For an instant the guests coming from the dark stairway into the brightly lighted room could hardly see; then as they took in the general appearance of their hosts the room rang with laughter.

The boys were all dressed in shirt-waists and skirts, with neat white collars and little bows of various kinds. The skirts came to the tops of their boots, and as they had donned the heaviest, biggest boots they could find, the result was amusing. They all wore frivolous little ap.r.o.ns, and on their heads jaunty white caps perched on hair which made the girls go off into fresh fits of merriment. It was the most wonderful hair-dressing the girls had ever seen; heavy braids, thick curls, even pompadours--and all made out of yarn.

"What happened that made you keep us waiting?" asked Ruth as she wiped real tears from her eyes.

"Betty fell over his skirt and had to fix it on again," said Phil with a twinkle, realizing that the girls hadn't yet taken in the full meaning of the performance.

Then it was the boys' turn to laugh, for, looking at Joe's red wig, the girls knew at once what Phil meant, and each hurried to pick out the imitation of herself.

"Do you mean to tell me I look like that?" asked Dorothy, pointing a scornful finger at Jack, who was deeply engaged in tightening a large, black bow which dangled at the end of his long, yellow braid.

"Why, Dolly, I flattered myself I was the handsomest one of the bunch, and now you speak harshly to me," protested Jack in a tone of great grief.

"So far as beauty goes there isn't much choice between you," said Charlotte meditatively. Her eye was taking in Phil's tall, slender figure, upon which the skirt hung in limp folds. His brown braids were twined about his head in a coronet, a style with which Charlotte's mirror was familiar.

"Oh, those ridiculous boys! Do see my bunch of curls," shrieked Ruth, getting around where she could better see the back of Arthur's head.

"Whatever made you think to do it, you silly things?" asked Betty, eyeing with disfavor the magenta-colored hair which graced the head of her double.

"Why, we are going to cook a supper for you to-night, and we thought we couldn't follow better models as to dress than the celebrated Cooking Club," answered Phil making a low bow with his hand on his heart.

"Do get to work, then," said Dolly with great disdain. "Let's see if you can imitate our cooking as remarkably as you have our looks."

A long table stood in the middle of the room, covered with a white cloth, and on it reposed several chafing-dishes, a pile of plates, forks, spoons and knives, and a quant.i.ty of paper napkins. Olives, crisp little pickles and plates of crackers were the only visible evidences of food, and to the hungry girls the prospect was not encouraging.

"If you will kindly be seated, young ladies," said Frank, whose woolly black locks made his imposing manner ridiculous, "we will now show you how much we know."

"How little, you mean," added his sister in an audible whisper.

"I'm not going to have Dolly near me while I cook," said Frank decidedly. "You go and watch Arthur, Dolly; that's a good girl."

"Don't watch me," groaned Arthur. "Charlotte and Ruth have got their eyes glued on everything I'm doing already. Watch Phil, Dorothy.

He's much nicer than I am."

Mr. and Mrs. Marshall slipped quietly away about this time, and then, with their guests showing an irritating and undue interest in all that they did, the boys began the preparation of the supper.

As the work progressed, wigs were pushed out of place and finally discarded; hooks and eyes, too fragile for such muscular young ladies, loosed their hold, and skirts were trampled under foot and cast aside. At last it was only six boys in girlish-looking waists who were working with pretended confidence but real anxiety under the eyes of their unsparing critics.

It leaked out afterward that the boys had been practicing for several weeks on the special dishes they made, and it was a great relief to the girls to find this out. On this evening, however, the lordly creatures a.s.serted that cooking was an art that reached perfection only when man undertook it, and that a man knew by instinct quant.i.ties, seasoning and time of preparation.

The girls, though not half believing, watched with a surprise not unmixed with awe while Phil cooked a lobster a la Newburg, seasoned to perfection, Arthur prepared delicious creamed potatoes, and Frank did up cold lamb in hot currant jelly in the most approved style.

There were potato chips and b.u.t.tered brown bread to eat with the lobster, and warm rolls to go with the second course. Everything was so good that the girls could only wonder and eat.

"Could I have a gla.s.s of water, please?" begged Ruth just before the feast began.

"Sure. Oh, wait a minute and I'll get you something better than water," said Joe, plunging down the stairs and into the house, to return in a moment laden with bottles of ginger-ale.

"Now watch him open them, Ruth," said Charlotte with pretended admiration. "See how skilfully he does it. No girl could ever attain to anything like that. After all boys are superior beings and--"

"Wow," gasped Joe, as a fountain of ginger-ale rose from the bottle and struck him squarely in the face.

"Here, take that bottle out of the way. It's going all over my creamed potatoes," shouted Arthur.

Blinded and dripping, Joe made a frantic effort to head the bottle another way, and in the attempt turned a liberal portion over Bert, who was standing near.

"I was just about to say," continued Charlotte calmly, "that boys always do everything in such a complete way."

"Well they know when not to talk," growled Joe, mopping himself with a napkin, and frowning darkly at the offending young lady.

It was a supper of gayety, and good things to eat. The boys were so proud of their cooking that they disliked to let the conversation wander from that particular subject, and brought it back by some skilful remark whenever they thought the interest of the girls was flagging. Each club toasted the other, and Jack toasted the ladies, ending with the sentence, which became a byword in Glenloch, "Girls are all right if you only know how to manage 'em."

"What a lot of dishes," said Betty with a sigh as they rose from the table.

"We will now show you how the powerful masculine mind handles the problem of dishes," proclaimed Phil.

"Do those dishes worry us? Not at all," added Bert as the boys lifted the table bodily and put it in a comer of the room.

"Now you see 'em," said Joe, helping to unfold two screens borrowed for the occasion, "and now you don't."

"Yes, but they're there all the same," argued Dorothy unconvinced.

"Mrs. Flinn will change all that, little sister," answered her brother condescendingly. "We have bribed her to spend to-morrow morning cleaning the club room, and she thinks we are 'blissed young gintlemen.'"

"Get over on the piano stool, Art, and give us that new music you were playing last night," begged Joe.

"No, don't play new things," implored Dorothy. "Play some college songs."

And so Arthur played and they all sang; some on the pitch and some off, but all happy, and each one deeply satisfied with his own share of the performance. At last, swinging around on the piano stool, Arthur looked at Ruth and said mysteriously, "You may as well tell them your news now, Ruth."

Every one turned to look at Ruth with such sudden interest that the color flashed into her face.

"It isn't enough to make you all look so curious," she laughed.

"It's only that I can't have many more parties with you, because my father has sent for me, and I am to sail on the 'Utopia' a month from to-day."

There was a moment of mournful and incredulous silence; then Dorothy said indignantly, "I call that a mean shame; you were promised to us for a year, and that would make it next October."

"I know. But you see father will be ready for me sooner than he thought, and much as I should love to spend the summer here, I do want to be with him."

"Strange," murmured Joe.

"And--and there's more news," continued Ruth. "Uncle Jerry and Miss Burton are going to be married a week before I sail, and go over with me for a wedding trip,"

"Tell us all about it," pleaded Betty, throwing herself on the floor at Ruth's feet.

"I have; just about. You see Miss Burton's father and mother are dead, and she hasn't any near relations except a sister who lives way out in Seattle. So Mrs. Hamilton has invited her to be married at her house, and it's going to be a very private wedding."

Distinct disappointment was visible in the girlish faces as Ruth finished.

"But." she continued hurriedly, "there is to be a reception after the ceremony, and all of us girls are to be invited to help receive and the boys to usher."