"Yes, you are. I asked the doctor. He said it would do you good."
"But I haven't a dress, Mary."
"Yes, you have. I've ordered one—one for you and one for me. They're with the compliments of Miss Marshall, they're perfect dreams and we're the luckiest people alive."
"You're a conspirator," complained Nell. "Honestly, Mary, I don't think I ought to go. I'm sure I shouldn't."
One of those determined looks flashed into Mary's face.
"Nell Norcross, you've got to go. I won't let you stay away. It's time you did something. Here I've been skating along on thin ice, bluffing and pretending and telling fibs until I hardly know which is my real name—yours or mine. Now I've reached the very climax and you've got to see me through. I'm going to be adamant."
Nell sighed.
"You're a whole lot bossier than you were the day I met you in the Brain Workers' Exchange," she said petulantly.
"Don't ever mention that place," and Mary made a grimace. "It gives me crawly little chills."
"Will I have to bring any more references?"