“There’s three o’clock now,” put in Cricket, as the hour struck from a neighbouring tower. “Rehearsal is at three, and we’ve never been late before.”
Emily looked ready to cry.
“It’s too bad of you. You might come if you wanted to. You’d rather go to a mean old rehearsal than come with me. I know you would.”
“Emily, how silly!” cried Cricket, in despair. “As if we wouldn’t rather go with you a billion times,—yes, a virgintillion. Don’t you see? We’ve promised.”
“Please don’t be cross about it,” begged Eunice. “You can get somebody and have a lovely drive, and we have to miss everything and be scolded for being late, besides. We must go, Cricket, or we’ll have our heads taken off.” And Eunice, as she spoke, sprang up on the carriage steps and kissed her little friend, coaxingly.
Emily sighed.
“Can you drive to-morrow then? I’ll come early.”
“If we don’t have rehearsal. We’ll ride with you now as far as the school, if you’ll take us.”
“All this trial and temptation,” sighed Cricket, soberly, as they went up the school steps, “and probably being scolded for being late into the bargain.”
Fortunately, however, when they reached the room, Miss Raymond herself was late, having been detained by some lesson. All the girls were already there, and soon they were at work.