"I don't see any use of your waking me up, I'm not invited;" exclaimed Kat, sinking back on to her pillow, when she found that she was not included in the coming bliss.
"I hope you didn't expect it, only a child," said Ernestine, as Bea took the magic paper in great delight.
"Child, indeed!" cried Kat. "I'm tall as you."
"More's the pity, for you're only twelve, and as wild as a boy."
"I don't care; I'm going if mama says so; can't I Bea?"
"Why no; Mrs. Richards didn't ask you."
"What's the difference? She likes me just as well as she does you and would be just as glad to see me."
"Of course; but girls of twelve are never invited out in the evening," expostulated Bea, re-reading the delightful invitation, for events were rare in Canfield, and then it was so nice to be called "Miss Dering."
"I don't care, I think it's real mean!" and Kat vented her resentment by punching her pillow into a helpless knot.
"Go, call Olive, Ernestine," continued Bea, all smiles and complacency; "and just say, by the way, that you're sorry you hurt her feelings; it's quite the proper thing to do, you know."