“You see, sir,” she confided to Solomon, “this is an Occasion—with a big O.”
But standing before the glass to unbraid her hair, Blue Bonnet had what she considered a sudden inspiration.
The next moment, she was kneeling on her closet floor, diving eagerly into the big box, where she kept certain of her most treasured possessions. “Solomon Clyde Ashe!” she cried, excitedly, “I’ve such a surprise in store for them!”
Fifteen minutes later when Delia knocked at her door, Blue Bonnet resolutely declined to open it. “I’ll be down presently,” she said through the keyhole.
“But Miss Clyde told me, miss—”
“I don’t need any help, thank you, Delia!” Blue Bonnet insisted.
“But your aunt said I was to—”
“I’m getting on beautifully! Please go away, Delia. And—Delia, please don’t—say anything.”
Delia hesitated; there was mystery and, it was to be feared, mischief in the very air. “It’s past two now, Miss Blue Bonnet! And Miss Clyde said—she—she’ll be wanting you to look your best, I’m thinking.”
“I’ll look—you’ll see how I’ll look!”