"You'd better get
on your hat."
"What boys and why the hat?" returned Grace Ford who, pretty and
graceful, as always, was provokingly calm.
"I'll answer any and everything if you will only get ready. Oh, have you
got to go upstairs? Hurry then," and Mollie swung her feet impatiently
as Grace detached herself from the great chair slowly and gracefully and
started out into the hall.
"If you will come upstairs with me, Mollie," Grace suggested, "perhaps
you will deign to tell me why you rush in here like a whirlwind and
insist on my putting on my hat to go goodness knows where."
"Oh, all right, if you will only hurry," cried Mollie in desperation,
and jumping from her chair she propelled her friend in most undignified
haste up the broad stairway--Grace protesting at every step.
"Here's your coat. Now don't talk--act!" Mollie was commanding when
Grace took her firmly by her two shoulders and backed her up against the
wall.
"Now listen here, young lady," she said, looking sternly down into her
friend's laughing eyes. "It's my turn to talk. I refuse to budge another
step until you have explained, to my perfect satisfaction, the cause of
all this rush.
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