“Well, I didn’t,” Blue Bonnet answered quickly.
“Oh, dear,” Amanda said regretfully, “I wish we could put it off, Elizabeth; but Aunt Huldah’ll be expecting us—and there wouldn’t be time to let her know.”
“There’s plenty of time to let Mrs. Prior know,” Kitty cried; “we’ll put her off. You and I’ll go out there to-morrow noon and tell her, Elizabeth. If we hurry all we can, there’ll be time enough.”
But Blue Bonnet shook her head, “I wouldn’t do it—for fifty rides. You saw how pleased she was, Kitty!”
“But she could come some other time,” Kitty persisted.
“She’s coming to-morrow,” Blue Bonnet declared; “I must go back now—good-night, all of you.”
“I’m coming, too,” Sarah said; and they went up the street together. At the parsonage gate, Sarah waited a moment before going in. “That was very nice of you, Elizabeth,” she said a little hesitatingly. “No one ever expected that Mrs. Prior would have to go to the poorhouse. She felt it dreadfully.”
Blue Bonnet glanced slowly up and down the village street, with its air of simple prosperity and homely comfort. Here and there, lights were flashing out through the twilight, mothers were calling their children home. “How could you all let her go?” she asked.
“Why, she had to!”
“But why?”