"Oh, ten fits all at once!" laughed Marion. "We must take care she doesn't find out where we have been."
While William was amusing himself by eating sponge cakes and tarts, Marion sat down at the desk and began writing a letter. "You must wait for this," she said; "I want you to take it to the post-office close to our home, and post it there. You see I am writing it to myself, asking myself and Kate to go home for a few hours to keep father's birthday to-morrow evening. I shall show it to Mrs. Maple, of course, and she'll grumble a bit at first, I daresay, but she'll let us go, I know."
"All right. She isn't half a bad sort, is she?" said the young man.
"No, that she isn't, and I hate to deceive her," said Kate, warmly.
"Well, she'll be none the worse for it, you goose," said Marion, laughing.
"I—I don't think I'll go," said Kate.
"There, take the letter, I'll manage her," said Marion, impatiently, as William was about to expostulate. "She'll come fast enough, I tell you."
"All right. I'll come in to-morrow to arrange about meeting, for we must go together. Mind, you must go, Kate," added the young man, as he slipped the letter into his pocket.
"Now, Kate, don't let us have any fuss with you about this," said her cousin, as the shop door closed and they were left to themselves.
"I don't want any fuss, but I don't want to go to the theatre."