"Angela! Mercy, I should hope not! Angela doesn't write doggerel—she writes verse."
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Blue Bonnet said meekly.
"Blue Bonnet, you'd make such a love of a lamb. Do join us."
"I reckon I would," she said, her natural humor coming to the surface. "I'm always being led to slaughter—if that helps any. I can't say I'm a willing sacrifice, however."
"You'll do," Sue said, taking up the step again. "I'll tell the girls you've about made up your mind—and—Blue Bonnet, come here, listen! Put on that white dress to-night; the one with the pink under it, will you? I want you to meet Billy and Hammie, if I can arrange it. Don't forget!"
The day wore on wearily. Blue Bonnet had seen nothing of Miss North; no word came from the office.
At five o'clock she started to dress for dinner. She got out the white dress half heartedly. Only because she wanted to please Sue did she consider it at all.
She tried to talk with Joy as she dressed, but Joy was unusually silent. Her monosyllables were low and indistinct. Twice Blue Bonnet turned to catch a word and Joy's face startled her: it was white and lifeless, almost expressionless save for the eyes—they were troubled.
"Are you ill, Joy?" Blue Bonnet asked kindly; but Joy turned her face away and answered "No," quickly.
Much to her surprise, Blue Bonnet found herself a guest at Miss North's table. She slipped into the place assigned her next to Annabel. In a moment Sue came in with her guests. They found their places just opposite.