"Nevertheless, methinks Sarah looks as if she had one up her sleeve," said Debby.
"Not up my sleeve," Sarah confessed, "—but in my bag. I'll go get it,—it's 'Don Quixote,' in Spanish and English both."
"Did you bring the drawn-work, too?" asked Kitty. "My, Sarah, but you are a first-rate smuggler!"
"Now that suspicion has raised its snaky head, I'd like to know—why is Sarah, long after the dishes are done, still wearing that apron?" Blue Bonnet had sent a random shot, but to her surprise Sarah flushed to the roots of her blond hair.
She rose hastily to go in search of "Don Quixote," but the other girls were too quick for her. They pitilessly tore the shielding apron from her shoulders, and the newly sponged and pressed middy jacket and khaki skirt stood revealed in all their guilty freshness.
"They've been ironed!" gasped Kitty.
"What do you think of that for selfishness,—not to let a soul know she had an iron?" demanded Debby.
"I got it over at Mrs. Judson's. And none of you said you wanted an iron," said Sarah.
"And do you mean to say that our Sarah, daughter of the Reverend Samuel Blake, wilfully broke the Sabbath by ironing?" Concentrated horror appeared on Kitty's saucy countenance.
"She probably thinks 'the better the day the better the deed,'" said Blue Bonnet.