“What would Mr. Kemp say?” Betsy asked. “He would think you had very poor taste and were very inartistic.”
“That would be part of the punishment, you see. It would be all the better, for it was on his account that I erred and strayed from my ways. Yes, I think it is exactly what I must do. You don’t mind, Betsy, if I go now and prepare my penetential robes?” They were sitting under their big trysting-tree back of the Tysons’ garden when this talk took place. “Perhaps you would like to come with me and help dye the waist,” Elizabeth proposed, seeing that Betsy looked dubious.
“Oh yes; that would be better,” agreed Betsy. “Shall you wear blue to school tomorrow, Elizabeth? What will Miss Jewett think?”
“She may not approve, but I shall be disobeying no rules,” returned Elizabeth steadfastly. “I suppose Corinne Barker will turn up her nose and will make unkind remarks, but I must suffer in silence.”
Betsy giggled. She was well aware that all this was play more than actual humility on the part of Elizabeth, but it was amusing and she wanted to see how it would turn out. She did not know of another girl who would be so daring in the face of established precedents.
“I will ask ’Lectra to press out the ribbons for me,” said Elizabeth, as they trotted along home, “and I shall have to ask her for the blue. I hope she is in a good humor.”
They found Electra disposed to grant any favor. The irons were on so it was no trouble to press out the ribbons. As for the waist, Elizabeth and Betsy preferred to try their experiments on that where they would be unobserved. They chose the attic for their work, and, having prepared a basinful of water, deeply, darkly blue, they dipped the waist in several times and then hung it up to dry.
“It is lucky that it is that crêpe stuff that doesn’t need ironing,” remarked Elizabeth as she carefully examined her work. “It is a waist that was Kathie’s, you know. I hope it won’t be very streaky. I wish I had a blue skirt to go with it, but as I haven’t I shall have to wear brown.”
“They won’t look very pretty together,” said Betsy doubtfully.
“Am I doing this to look pretty?” inquired Elizabeth with disdain. “Look at my hands, Betsy. Do you suppose the blue will come off?”