“But ‘afterwards,’ when there had been plenty of time for thought, you still went on.”
“Y—yes,” Blue Bonnet admitted, “but it didn’t seem as if I could give in before Kitty did, Grandmother.”
“It is not so many years ago, Blue Bonnet,” Grandmother said, “that a party of young people went skating up at that end of the pond, against orders, and that one of them did not come back with the rest.”
“Grandmother! And you had that to think about—all last evening!”
“Yes, Blue Bonnet.”
“I—hate myself! I’ll never take such a silly dare as that was last night again!”
“It is my experience,” Grandmother observed, “that most dares come under that description.”
When Aunt Lucinda came up just before supper, bringing messages from various friends, and a little knot of lemon verbena and heliotrope from Sarah’s window garden, she found Blue Bonnet looking very sober.
“We shall not have to keep you prisoner to-morrow, my dear,” Miss Lucinda said. “I expect we shall have numerous callers, even if it is Sunday.”
Blue Bonnet laid Sarah’s flowers against her face. “I’m sorry the club couldn’t meet—it’s the first time we’ve missed since starting.” For a moment or two, she lay looking across at her aunt in the low chair before the fire; then she asked, suddenly, “Aunt Lucinda, aren’t you going to—say anything to me?”