“I am afraid it was, dear.”
It seemed to Blue Bonnet that she could see the long line of unsuccessful aspirants drawn up on one side, and on the other, Aunt Lucinda—successful, triumphant. And, oh, dear, she felt sure that they would expect her to try. It would be so stupid! All the “We are Seven’s” fussing over a tiresome prize—everybody talking, dreaming, thinking compos!
“If people will go in for such things there ought to be consolation prizes, too. Aunt Lucinda, I’ve the loveliest plan—I mean to give the ‘We are Seven’s’ the time of their lives on Saturday.”
“To do what—Blue Bonnet!”
“The ‘rankin’ off—’ Miss Rankin says—when we’re writing our papers, to first find out what we want to say—and then say it. Just snippy little words—like treat, or good time—wouldn’t half express what I mean, Aunt Lucinda. You see,” Blue Bonnet went on rather hurriedly, “getting this five dollars was like what Uncle Joe calls finding money; and it has only got to last me until the first of the month, so I can—”
“Elizabeth!” Miss Lucinda exclaimed; and at her tone, Mrs. Clyde suddenly dropped her napkin—not on Blue Bonnet’s side of the table—and was rather slow about picking it up.
“I’ve had to be so skimpy lately,” Blue Bonnet explained. “Grandmother, why didn’t you tell me? It’ll feel good to be able to cut loose again!”
“In what direction were you thinking of ‘cutting loose,’ Blue Bonnet?” Mrs. Clyde asked.
“I beg your pardon, Grandmother! I didn’t know how horrid that was, until you said it! I—I thought, if we seven could go in town—Uncle Cliff would take us. And that perhaps, we might go to a matinée. Just think! Sarah’s never been to the theater! It’d do her a lot of good! Of course I’d have to let Uncle Cliff pay our way in and out.”
“Shall we talk it over later, after study-time?” Grandmother said, rising from the table.