"Tomorrow."
And so Soubrette could not think of going when it looked so much like rain, and Anglaise could not think of going without Soubrette, and Peachblow was getting nervous about the coming examinations, and must study, as she knew she would just die if she failed to pass.
"You will anyway—sometime!" said White Pigeon.
"Don't urge her; she may change her mind and go with you," dryly remarked Anglaise with back towards us as she dusted the mantel.
Then I expressed my regret that the trinity could not go, and White Pigeon expressed her regret because they had to stay at home. And as we went down the stairs together we chanted the Kyrie eleison for our small sins, easing conscience by the mutual confession that we were arrant hypocrites.
"But still," mused White Pigeon, not quite satisfied, "we really did not tell an untruth—that is, we did not deceive them—they understood—I wouldn't tell a real whopper, would you?"
"I don't know—I think I did once."
"Tell me about it," said White Pigeon.