“Then what does mother say to this remarkable invitation?”
“You might know better than to ask that!” broke in Fairy, who had been listening with evident impatience. “In this family it is, ‘What does Jessie say?’ What do you say, Jess?”
“I say, never refuse a good offer. It is only for twelve months; and, of course, one of us must go!”
“Then, will you go?” inquired Fairy, with elevated brows.
“Am I the pretty one?” Jessie demanded sarcastically. “I should be bundled back by the next steamer.”
“No, of course; I never thought of that,” rejoined her sister, meditatively. “I am the pretty one; there has never been any question of that—has there, girls?”
“No, never,” returned Jessie, in her most matter-of-fact tone, and she and Honor exchanged stealthy glances.
For some seconds Fairy seemed buried in thought, as she drew patterns on the table-cloth with a fork. At last she looked up, and exclaimed—
“It is only for twelve months as you say, Jess; twelve months soon fly round.” And she threw back her shawl, and leant her elbows on the table. “Never refuse a good offer—such as a pony, a rickshaw—whatever that is—the new dresses, the best society, the best beaux!” and she burst into a peal of shrill laughter, as she exclaimed, “Do you know, girls, that I think I shall go!”
A pause, the result of utter stupefaction, followed this unexpected announcement.