“Aunt Lucinda,” she said now, coming to a halt just inside the doorway, “I’ve invited company to supper for Wednesday. Mrs. Prior, from the town farm. She said she hadn’t any friends nor anywhere to go, and I felt so sorry for her that I asked her to come and see me.” Blue Bonnet paused, out of breath.
From her side of the fireplace, Mrs. Clyde cast a swift glance of amusement at her daughter.
“Go and take your things off, Elizabeth,” Miss Lucinda said; “then come and explain.”
It was a rather subdued Blue Bonnet who reentered the room a moment or two later, and drew a stool up close to Mrs. Clyde’s chair.
“Elizabeth,” her aunt said quietly, “first of all, I should like to know what you were doing at the town farm?”
“We were out on the turn-pike, Aunt Lucinda, and I saw the house—and we went over. Kitty didn’t want to go.”
“Kitty was quite right.”
“We didn’t go in, Aunt Lucinda. We met Mrs. Prior up the road. She is a very nice old lady. She was so pleased when I asked her. It must be very tiresome, having nowhere to go.”
“Mrs. Prior,” Mrs. Clyde said thoughtfully; “why, you remember her, Lucinda? I always did think Hannah Carew treated her shamefully.” She laid a hand lightly on Blue Bonnet’s head for a moment. “That was a very kind impulse, Elizabeth. I think we must try to make this second tea-party of yours a success.”
Blue Bonnet laid her head down on Grandmother’s knee with a little sigh of relief.