There were shopping trips in town with Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda, and one made by the club in a body. Blue Bonnet declared she would never forget that shopping trip; Sarah inwardly registered the same vow, though from different reasons.
There were innumerable impromptu meetings of the club at the house of one or another.
There were the daily walks, which, now that the riding was over, Grandmother firmly insisted on.
And in between times were snatches of extra studying, hasty reviews.
“And you’ve gone through with it all every year for ages and ages!” Blue Bonnet said one morning, looking from Sarah to Kitty in positive admiration.
“Why don’t you put it centuries?” Kitty asked.
“Of course we have,” Sarah said, calmly. She expected to pass; she always had, though never brilliantly; and when she went to bed on Christmas Eve, though it might be late, it would be with the comfortable feeling that she had accomplished all she had set out to do.
“Alec’s cousin came last night!” Blue Bonnet announced with one of her sudden changes of subject.
“What’s he like?” Kitty asked.
“He isn’t like Alec. I daresay he’s—New Yorky. I don’t like him as well as I do Alec.”