Jacqueline sat quite still. She was very angry with Caroline for being such a baby. She was too angry to speak to her. At least she supposed that was the reason she kept silent.
“Muzzy and I used to plan how I’d have a party,” Caroline quavered in the dusk that was now thickening fast in the summer house. “It’s the next best fun to having things. I almost had a party once. But the Stetson twins’ father lost his money and they didn’t pay Muzzy for the music lessons—weeks and weeks of lessons—so she couldn’t afford a party—and I said I didn’t care, but oh! I did. And now I was going to have a party—like in a book—and I’ll never have another chance the longest day I live. Oh, Jackie—Jackie! Couldn’t you——”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She just let it trail off hopelessly into the dusk.
Jacqueline felt a queer tingling in her palms, and a hot smarting behind her eyes. She was mad—mad at Caroline—mad at herself—mad at something in herself that was going to make her do what Caroline wanted, and hate herself afterward for doing it.
“Like taking candy off a kid!” That was her new Uncle Jimmie’s phrase for something that was too contemptible for a regular fellow to do. That was what it would be to take Caroline’s party away from her. Let her have her old party! But drat Caroline—and double-drat Prince Edward, whose silly story had let her in for this! Trouble! He didn’t know the name of trouble!
Jacqueline drew a deep breath, which was rather like a sniffle.
“Aw shucks!” she said disgustedly. “Cut out the sob-stuff, Carol. One day is as good as another, far as I’m concerned. You can have your party.”
Caroline, all moist and crumpled, fell upon her in the dusk.
“Oh, Jackie! You mean it—really? You are the dearest——”
“Oh, dumb-bells!” scoffed Jacqueline. “Stop bawling now. You’ll look like a squashed egg. I tell you, it’s all right, and you can have your party. So long, now! I’ve got to beat it home.”