"How can I go back for it or send for it?" retorted Marjorie, amazed at such an outburst on the part of her chum. "I'm sorry; but, after all, it would have been miles too big for you, and you'll really do the part quite as well in my mackintosh, with Irene's broad leather belt. There's a piece of brown calico we can cut into strips and make puttees for you. You'll look very nice, I'm sure."
Chrissie hardly seemed to be listening. She was sitting on her bed rocking herself to and fro in the greatest emotion. When Marjorie laid a hand on her arm she flung her off passionately. She had never exhibited such temper before, and Marjorie was frankly surprised. The occasion did not seem to justify it. The disappointment about the costume could not surely be so very keen. None of the girls had meant to dress up to any great extent for the charades.
"Chrissie, don't be an idiot!"
There was no answer.
"What are you making such a hullabaloo about? You're the limit this evening. Do, for goodness' sake, brace up!"
"Let me alone!" snapped Chrissie. "You called yourself my friend, and you wouldn't do what I asked you. I've done with you now. Don't speak to me again."
"Bow-wow! Pitch it a little stronger. I'll go away till you've got over your tantrums. It's what used to be called katawampus when I was small, and they generally spanked me for it."
"Can't you go?" thundered Chrissie.
Thoroughly angry with her chum, Marjorie went. She wondered how they were going to act a love scene together that evening. The soft nothings they had rehearsed would seem very hollow after the mutual reproaches they had just exchanged.
Chrissie was not in her usual place at supper-time.