“What is it, dearie?” said Aunt Dorinda, noticing Ladybird’s dismayed countenance. “Whom have you invited?”
“I asked Jim Blake,” said Ladybird, thinking it wise to begin with the least objectionable one.
“Jim Blake!” exclaimed Miss Priscilla. “Why, Lavinia Lovell, whatever possessed you to ask that ragamuffin! I shall send him home as soon as he appears.”
“Why, Aunt Priscilla, he’s perfectly crazy to come, and you said to ask those who would enjoy it most.”
Miss Flint looked utterly exasperated.
“Of course I meant within the bounds of decent society,” she said; “I didn’t suppose you intended to disgrace yourself and your relatives and your home! But never mind now. Go to your room and get dressed, and I will attend to Jim Blake when he arrives.”
“But, aunty—”
“Not a word more. Do as I told you. I am busy.”
Ladybird went up-stairs feeling crushed and despondent; but when she began to array herself in the white cashmere with red ribbons, which was her favorite frock, the humor of the situation appealed to her. What her aunt would do when the unwelcome guests arrived she did not know; but, on the other hand, there was no way to avert the issue, and so there was nothing to be done but to await developments.
“And anyway,” she said to herself, “I haven’t done anything wrong; I’ve done just what the Bible says, even if it is ridiculous.”