There was Strife in the house. The first way I noticed it,
aside from Hannah's anonamous remark, was by observing that
Leila was mopeing. She acted very strangely, giving me a pair of
pink hoze without more than a hint on my part, and not sending
me out of the room when Carter Brooks came in to tea the next
day.
I had staid at home, fearing that if I went out I should
purchace some _crepe de chene_ combinations I had been craving
in a window, and besides thinking it possable that Tom would
drop in to renew our relations of yesterday, not remembering
that there was a Ball Game.
Mother having gone out to the Country Club, I put my hair
on top of my head, thus looking as adult as possable. Taking a
new detective story of Jane's under my arm, I descended the
staircase to the library.
Sis was there, curled up in a chair, knitting for the
soldiers. Having forgoten the Ball Game, as I have stated, I
asked her, in case I had a caller, to go away, which,
considering she has the house to herself all winter, I
considered not to much.
"A caller!" she said. "Since when have you been allowed to
have callers?"
I looked at her steadily.
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