"You'll see us all to-morrow morning at the station," Kitty answered, looking straight at Blue Bonnet, hoping she would acquiesce, but Blue Bonnet in her surprise could scarcely find voice to speak.
It was not until she was in the privacy of her own room that Blue Bonnet confided her disappointment to Carita.
"I've been perfectly horrid to Alec," she confessed. "I've been angry at him ever since he struck Chula yesterday. I don't know why—Chula did act badly. Perhaps it was because I was so horribly upset. I was so frightened—oh, you can't think how frightened! And now he's going away—for two years—and he'll never know how sorry I am."
"Why didn't you tell him?" Carita asked.
"I wanted to, but I couldn't get a chance. He seemed so terribly interested in Kitty. I couldn't get near him—alone."
"Why don't you write him a note, Blue Bonnet? Write and tell him that you were angry, but that you're all over it now."
"A note? I hadn't thought of that. How could I get a note to him? He leaves so early in the morning."
"Write it now and we'll skip out and put it under his front door. We can slip down-stairs—no one will hear us, and—"
"Carita! You don't know what you are talking about. It's twenty minutes after twelve this instant. Don't you ever think you could get out of this house without Aunt Lucinda's knowing it. She sleeps with one eye open. No—that won't do. Can't you think of something else?"
"Yes—" Carita answered after a moment. "You write the note. I always wake early in the morning—I got the habit in Texas and it seems to stay with me. I'll get up and take it over early—very early, and give it to the maid—or—I could send it by Denham, couldn't I? He's always up by six o'clock."