“And even if you don’t do that,” Ruth said, “just as likely as not you can’t find the thing you’ve decided on.”
“I’ll settle with you two later,” Kitty warned. “Listen, Blue Bonnet. As soon as you’ve bought your present you must wrap it up in tissue paper and tie it prettily with ribbon and label it—”
“Right there in the store!” Blue Bonnet protested. “How inconvenient, Kitty!”
“To avoid confusion at the last,” Kitty finished, calmly.
“You wait till you’ve seen Kitty’s room day before Christmas!” Debby remarked.
“I’m making most of my presents,” Sarah said.
“I haven’t made up my mind,” Kitty flicked Black Pete lightly, “whether yours is an example to be followed, or shunned, Sarah. I’d hate to feel lonesome—the way you must.”
Sarah shifted herself in the saddle; she still found riding more of a duty than a pleasure—which Kitty declared was her principal reason for keeping on with it. “Lonesome!” she repeated, wonderingly, “what do you mean?”
“You remember what the poet says—” Kitty’s gray eyes were most demure—“‘Be good and you’ll be lonesome’?”
“Then you’ve never been lonesome, Kitty Clark!” Susy remarked.