On the day set for Ilga to try walking across her room she had planned a small tea-party for her chosen comrades.
“Wouldn’t it be wiser, my dear, to wait until the next day?” Miss Price had suggested, not daring to hint more strongly of the possibility of the blasting of their hopes. “The excitement and pleasure of being on your feet again should be sufficient for Wednesday.”
But Ilga, sanguine and joyous, wished her friends there to witness her achievement, and so the preparations had gone on.
Miss Price was to be the guest of honor, and Polly, Patricia, David, Gustave, and June English and her brother were to make up the party. Mrs. Barron was sparing neither trouble nor money to please her daughter, and there were to be guessing contests, with prizes for the successful ones. It was quite out of Ilga’s power to keep a secret, so Polly had been treated to a glimpse of the dear little pussy-head pins, with the emerald eyes, and had heard all about the odd-shaped sandwiches and the curious cakes representing animals, birds, and various other objects, the guessing of which was to be the feature of the tea. She had even peeped at one of the beautiful boxes of confections which stood ready to be given the departing guests as sweet good-byes, until she was looking forward to the party almost as joyfully as Ilga herself. And then the New York letter came.
Ilga noticed the change as soon as Polly appeared.
“What’s the matter?” she asked abruptly.
Polly had been bravely trying to smile, but at the sudden question the corners of her mouth flew down.
“How’d you know there was anything?” she faltered.
“Hoh, I can read you like a book! Your mother sick?”