"Perhaps that is because they know my shortcomings better than you do,
Miss Partridge," replied Harriet.
A close observer might have seen Patricia and Cora exchange meaning
glances.
There was a lively chattering along the tables while the girls were
waiting for the serving of the first course, the soup. This was brought to
the table in great tureens, one for each table, the guardian who sat at
the head of the table serving the soup which was passed along to the other
end by the girls themselves. In this case it was Miss Elting who was doing
the serving at the table at which the Meadow-Brook Girls were seated.
"This consomme certainly looks delicious," she said with a smile.
"From the smell I should say it must be," declared Jane McCarthy. "I know
I could die eating that soup."
"Be careful," warned a voice. "You may."
"I say girls, let's wait till Harriet samples it," suggested Hazel. "It is
her last chance at the soup. There's no telling what she might do to us."
"Yeth, that ith right," nodded Grace. "No poithon cup for uth."
"Taste it, darlin'," urged Jane.
Harriet with a good natured smile dipped her spoon in daintily, carrying
some of the steaming soup to her lips. She tasted the consomme gingerly,
then took another spoonful, and hurriedly put the spoon back in the dish.
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