You'd better forget your appetite, Betty," she whispered
as she passed the latter on her way out of the room. "Time and tide wait
for no man--or girl either."
"What does she mean?" wondered Betty, and became a little anxious as the
others began to rise, too, and were excused. "Have we got to change? What
is it--the movies? Or a party? Of course, it isn't skating? Even if there
was a little scale of ice last night, it would never in this world bear
us," added Betty, utterly puzzled.
Bob Henderson had slipped around to her side of the table and leaned over
her chair back to whisper in Betty's ear:
"You've got to be ready in twenty minutes. The horses won't stand this
cold weather--not under saddle."
"Saddle! Horses!" gasped Betty Gordon, rising right up from the table with
the soup spoon in her hand. "I--I don't believe I want any more luncheon,
Mrs. Littell. Really, I don't need any more. Will you please excuse me?"
"Not if you run away with my spoon, Betty," laughed her hostess. "It was
the dish that ran away with the spoon, and you are not a dish, dear.
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