Elizabeth woke just at seven, and rising, glanced as usual at the watch on the dressing-table.
"Nine o'clock!" she almost screamed, running to her sister's door.
"Barbara! what does this mean? It's nine o'clock! Are you asleep?"
Barbara was asleep, but she awoke at her sister's call and drew her watch from beneath the pillow.
"It is," she cried, "it's nine o'clock! What shall I do? There's a rehearsal of the Historical Tableaux at ten, and I have to make three wigs before I go."
"But even that isn't as important as my engagement," wailed Elizabeth, who was splashing her face with water. "I have to be at the Authors' Club at nine-thirty, to prepare the room for the reception at eleven, and nothing can be done until I get there. And I must do several errands on my way there. Oh, it can't be nine o'clock. Perhaps my watch stopped at nine last evening. No—it's going. Oh, how unfortunate I am. Mother, mother," she called.
But Mrs. Fleming was already up, and came through the hall with a scared face.
"Girls," she said, "it's after nine o'clock, and Tom has to go away on the 9:45 train. We have overslept ourselves."
"I should think we had," began Elizabeth, but Mrs. Fleming had already gone to her son's room. "Tom, Tom," she called, as she knocked vigorously at the door, "get up, it's after nine o'clock!"
"What!" came from Tom's room, accompanied by a sudden jump out onto the floor.