“It’s such a nuisance when everybody isn’t there, though. But I’m just dying for a skate,” said Cricket, wistfully. “How I wish we could go!”
“Come, do cut,” some one urged. “Let Miss Raymond scold. Ask your mother. She’ll let you.” Eunice wavered. Wouldn’t mamma let her if she only knew about this? Such a very special occasion! They had been so very punctual and regular,—not a single time had they missed rehearsal, and they knew their parts perfectly. Indeed, this was an extra rehearsal, appointed for the special benefit of some girl who had been absent twice. Could not they let it go for once? Eunice and Cricket looked at each other wistfully.
“I believe—” began Eunice, slowly.
“Oh, goody! fly up-stairs fast, and get your things on. It’s getting awfully late, now, to get off.”
Eunice still hesitated; then she suddenly braced herself.
“No,” she said, backing off, with her hands behind her back, as though there were something she was forbidden to touch. Then she spoke very fast, lest her determination should waver again.
“We can’t possibly go. We’ve promised mamma we wouldn’t shirk once, no matter what came up, and we can’t. We’re awfully sorry, but we can’t. You go on, girls. It’s getting late.”
It certainly required much resolution to say this, in the face of those glittering skates and beseeching eyes, but Eunice’s tone was so firm that the girls wasted no further coaxing, and went off with many an expression of regret.
Eunice and Cricket each drew a long breath, and looked at each other resignedly.
“Now let’s get ready to go straight off before anything else happens,” said Eunice, with assumed briskness.