Miss Kilrain was accorded the honour.
But she surprised them. She did come; she came tripping up on the balls of her feet the very next Friday. They heard her deprecating little cough as she came up the stairs. When one was little, one had played “Let’s pretend.” But in the full illusion of the playing, if grown-up people had appeared, the play stopped—short.
It was like that, now—the silence.
“Oh,” said Miss Kilrain, in the doorway, “go on, or I’ll go away.”
They went on lamely enough, but they never went on again. Miss Kilrain, ever after, went on for them, and perforce, they followed.
But to-day they went on. The secretary had been reading a communication. It was from the Literary Society of the Boy’s High School, proposing a debate between the two; it was signed by the secretary, who chanced to be a boy whose name was Chester.
Miss MacLauren, in spite of herself, grew red; she had been talking about the Platonians and their debates with him quite recently.
The effect of the note upon the Platonians was visible. A tremendous fluttering agitated the members. It was a proposition calculated to agitate them.
Rosalie was on that side opposed to the matter. Why was obvious, for Rosalie preferred to shine before boys, and she would not shine in debate.
Hattie was warmly in favour of it, for she was one who would shine.