“Let us hope so,” returned Claudia oracularly.
But, alas! alas! the next morning it was raining in torrents. Winnie, rain-coated and overshoed, was about ready to start for school when she was called to the telephone.
“Is that you, Win?” came a doleful voice.
“Guessed it the first time,” came the cheerful response. “Do I address Miss Joanne Selden?”
“Yes, it’s Jo speaking. Oh, Win, isn’t it awful? I was never so disappointed in all my life.”
“Judging from the teary quality of your speech I should say you were.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am, but I’m not going to cry about it. There will be other Saturdays and I reckon the bungalow won’t burn down meanwhile; if it does we can camp out.”
“I don’t see how you can be so cheerful about it; to me it is simply tragic.”
“Why, no, it isn’t. It is a disappointment but it isn’t a grief nor a disgrace. Better hurry up and come along to school where you can bury your woes in a stiff mathematical problem.”