, but he said it in such an
uninterested tone that Marjorie gave up talking to him, and turned her
attention to the neighbor on her other side.

When the supper was over, the young guests all took their leave. Again
the Maynards stood in a group to receive the good-byes, and every child
expressed thanks for the afternoon's pleasure in a formal phrase, and
curtsied, and went away.

When they had all gone, the Maynard children looked at each other,
wondering what to do next.

"You may go up to the billiard room and play, if you like," said Grandma,
benignly. "You will not want any other supper to-night, I'm sure; so you
may play up there until bedtime."

Rosy Posy was carried away by the nurse, but the three other children
started for the billiard room. Marjorie, however, turned back to say,
"We all thank you, Grandma Maynard, for the party you gave us."

Kitty and King murmured some sort of phrase that meant about the same
thing, but as they had not enjoyed the party at all they didn't make
their thanks very effusive, and then the three walked decorously
upstairs. But once inside the billiard room, with the door shut, they
expressed their opinions.

"That was a high old party, wasn't it?" said King.

"The very worst ever!" declared Kitty. "I never got so tired of anything
in my life, as I did listening to that entertaining person, or whatever
they call her."

"It _was_ an awful poky party," said Marjorie, "but I think we ought to
give Grandma credit for meaning to give us pleasure. Of course she's
used to children who act like that, and she couldn't even imagine the
kind of parties we have at home, where we frolic around and have a good
time. So I say don't let's jump on her party, but remember that she did
it for us, and she did it the best she knew how."

"You're a good sort, Mopsy," said King, looking at his sister
affectionately. "What you say is all right, and it goes. Now let's cut
out that party and try to forget it."

There were some quiet games provided for the children, and so they played
parcheesi and authors until bedtime, for though the billiard room was
hardly within hearing of their grandparents, yet they did not feel like
playing romping games.

"I don't think I shall ever holler again," said King. "I'm getting so
accustomed to holding my breath for fear I'll make too much noise that
I'll probably always do so after this."

"No, you won't," said practical Kitty. "As soon as you get away fro