What should Elliott do? She remembered Bruce.
“We haven’t had any telegram, you know,” she said. Nobody spoke. “Well, then, we were three little geese, weren’t we? Not having had a telegram means a lot just now.” Priscilla stopped rocking.
“I’m going to believe Sidney will get well,” Elliott continued. It was hard work to talk to such unresponsive ears, but she kept right on. “And now I am going down-stairs to put on one of my prettiest dresses, so as to look cheerful for supper. You may try whether you can get into that blue dress of mine you like so much, Trudy. I’m going to let Priscilla wear my coral beads.”
“The pink ones?” asked Priscilla.
“The pink ones. They will be just a match for your pink dress.”
“I don’t feel like dressing up,” said Gertrude.
Elliott felt like clapping her hands. She had roused Trudy to speech.
“Then wear something of your own,” she said stanchly. “It doesn’t matter what we wear, so long as we look nice.”
Mercurial Priscilla was already feeling the new note in the air. Elliott wouldn’t talk so, would she, if Sidney really were 240 not going to get well? And yet there was Gertrude, who didn’t seem to feel cheered up a bit. Pris’s little heart was torn.