“What colour dress does It wear, Flossy?”
“Black,” said Flossy, thinking of the boy next to her.
“Of course you’re speaking the truth,” said Lorraine, with a comical smile, “but there isn’t a girl in the room with a black dress on. What’s her dress trimmed with, Ed?”
The boy looked at Maude Carleton, who sat next to him. Then he said: “It’s dress is trimmed with a sort of feathery, fluffery, white, lacy ruching.”
“Why, that’s the trimming on Maude’s dress,” declaimed Lorraine, “but her dress isn’t black. Maude, is It you?”
“No,” said Maude, positively.
“I give it up,” said Lorraine; “I promised to keep my temper, and I have; I promised to believe you all told me the truth, and I do; but I didn’t promise to guess your old It, and I can’t do it; I give It up.”
“You’re a trump, Lorraine,” cried Patty; “anybody else would have been as mad as hops long before this. Now we’ll tell you.”
So they explained the game to Lorraine, and she realised how they had each told her the truth, although it didn’t seem so at the time. She was glad she had kept good-natured about it, though it had been more of an effort than anyone had realised.
Then other games were played, which were less of a tax on the young people’s ingenuity, and after that supper was served.