No one but "Bertrand the Lay Reader" drove a buggy with red wheels! To the infinite scandalization of the Parish—no one but "Bertrand the Lay Reader" drove a buggy with red wheels!—Fleet steps sounded suddenly on the path! Startled fists beat furiously on the door!
"What is it? What is it?" shouted a familiar voice. "Whatever in the world is happening? Is it murder? Let me in! Let me in!"
"Sil—ly!" hissed Flame through a crack in the door. "It's nothing but a party! Don't you know a—a party when you hear it?"
For an instant only, blank silence greeted her confidence. Then "Bertrand the Lay Reader" relaxed in an indisputably genuine gasp of astonishment.
"Why! Why, is that you, Miss Flame?" he gasped. "Why, I thought it was a murder! Why—Why, whatever in the world are you doing here?"
"I—I'm having a party," hissed Flame through the key-hole.
"A—a—party?" stammered the Lay Reader. "Open the door!"
"No, I—can't," said Flame.
"Why not?" demanded the Lay Reader.
Helplessly in the darkness of the vestibule Flame looked up,—and down,—and sideways,—but met always in every direction the memory of her promise.