“Phoebe, Phoebe—­why—­why?” and Caroline caught and held Phoebe for a few seconds.  “Don’t you care at all?”

“Yes, child—­a lot!  Having admitted which I will betake myself to the plunge—­leaving you to finish the cake for the precious thing.”  In a second Phoebe smiled back from the door: 

“Just one little waffle, tell Tempie,” she said.  “And I’m due to make a lightning toilet if I get to that Woman’s Guild meeting at eleven-thirty.  Call the office for me and tell them not to send Freckles until one-thirty to-day.  And, dearie, please call Polly and tell her to be sure and go to that meeting of the Daughters of the Colonies so she can tell me what happens.  Tell her to get it all straight—­names and all and I will phone her.  And not to let them office or committee me just because I’m not there!  You are a dear!”

Caroline smiled happily as she went back to the mixing of the confection of affection to be administered to David with his tea as by request, and she laughed as she heard Phoebe’s mighty splash.

And a half-hour later, during the discussion of the plump bird and the one crisp waffle, David Kildare whirled in, beaming with joy over his plans.  In fact he failed to manage anything in the way of a formal greeting.

“Girls!” he exclaimed from the doorway, “the hunt is on for to-night!  Everybody hurry up!  Caroline, Mrs. Matilda wants you to motor out with her to the Forks to see about having Jeff and Tempie get ready for the supper cooking—­barbecue, birdies and the hot potato!  Milly and Billy Bob are going and Polly and that Boston lad of yours, Caroline—­yours if you can hold him, which I don’t think you can.  And Mrs. Matilda says—­”

“Stop,” demanded Phoebe, “and tell us what you are talking about, David.”

“I’m surprised at you, Phoebe, for being so dense,” answered David with a delighted grin at having created a flurry.  “Didn’t you hear me tell Caroline Darrah Brown at least a week ago that possums and persimmons are ripe and that the first night after a rain and a fog we would all turn out and show her how to shake down a few?  The whole glad push is going.  Mrs. Matilda and I decided it an hour ago while you were still asleep.  I’ve telephoned everybody—­possums and persimmons wait for no man.”

“How perfectly delightful,” said Caroline with eyes agleam with enthusiasm.  “Can everybody go?” David had failed to mention Andrew Sevier in his enumeration, an omission that she had instantly caught.

“Yes,” answered David, “everybody that had engagements we asked the engagement to go, too.  Even Andy is going to cut the poems for the lark!  Thuse up a little, Phoebe, please—­give us the smile!  I’m backing you to shake down ten possums against anybody’s possible five.”

“I don’t think that I can go,” answered Phoebe quietly.  “Mrs. Cherry has the president of the Federation of Women’s Clubs staying with her and I’m going to dine there to-night to discuss the suffrage platform.”  There was a cool note in Phoebe’s voice and a sudden seriousness had come into her expression.