"That hardly demands an answer, does it?" said Katharine, without looking up. She threaded her needle, and added more graciously, "I didn't go, after all."
"Oh," said Phyllis wonderingly. "I'm sorry."
"You needn't bother, thanks. I didn't want to go. I stayed at home instead, and mended my clothes; they seemed to want it, rather. I shall be quite respectable, now."
"Oh!" said Phyllis again. "I should have left it for a wet day, I think."
"Perhaps your work allows you to select your holidays according to the weather. Mine doesn't," said Katharine sarcastically.
Phyllis cleared the chair, and sat down upon it.
"You've been crying," she said, with the bluntness that estranged all her friends in time. Katharine never minded it; it rather appealed to her love of truth than otherwise.
"Oh, yes! I was disappointed, that's all. There was nothing really to cry about. I don't know why I did. Don't sit there and stare, Phyllis; I know I have made a sight of myself."
"No, you haven't. Poor old dear!" said Phyllis, with ill-timed affection. "I should like to tell him what I think of him, I know!" she added emphatically.
"What are you muttering about?" asked Katharine.