For a moment, Mrs. Clyde said nothing, there was a far-away look in her eyes; then she smiled softly. “I suppose I should have, because once I—did. But I had not promised. It makes me very proud and glad, dear, that you kept yours in spite of so much pressure from within, as well as without. And everything is not spoiled, you will see.”
Blue Bonnet sat up. “I’m glad it’s Friday! Only I wish to-morrow were not club day.”
“To-morrow isn’t here yet,” Grandmother answered. “Suppose you go give this forlorn little object a run in the garden. He is sharing in all the unhappiness, without understanding what it is about.”
“Dogs never go back on one.” Blue Bonnet gave Solomon an affectionate squeeze.
“Nor grandmothers,” Mrs. Clyde said.
“That’s one of the things that goes without saying,” Blue Bonnet answered. A good romp with Solomon helped to restore her spirits; it did not seem, after all, as if things could stay very wrong in such a world of March wind and sunshine.
The sight of Alec coming towards her across the lawn brought the doubts back. What would he think?
“Halloa!” Alec called, cheerily, and Blue Bonnet, suddenly on the alert, could detect no change in his manner. But perhaps he didn’t know.
Alec knew, and inwardly was much perplexed; however, where one did not understand—in the case of a friend like Blue Bonnet—one must go by faith. She had some good reason, no doubt about it.
“Look here,” he said, “I’ve evolved a capital scheme—I think I shall take up the profession of furnishing ideas to the needy. I’ve ’phoned in town, and secured a box, and to-morrow the club and one or two other persons are to be my guests at the jolliest matinée of the jolliest play of the season. Grandfather’s going to chaperon us. He makes the best chaperon going—being at heart very much of a boy,—that’s a way they have in the army. What do you say?”