"I think I will let her wear her sprigged muslin," said Aunt Cordelia at supper that night. "A good many grown persons go in the afternoon."
"Their excuse being to take the children——" from Uncle Charlie easily.
"I am not talking of the circus, Charlie, and you know I am not," from Aunt Cordelia sharply.
"She has decided then?"
"She certainly ought to have decided. There never should have been any doubt. I'll put in some little tarts, Katie; all children like tarts."
Had Emmy Lou decided? She heard it assumed that she had. Why, then, with this sense of frustration and bewilderment was she swallowing at tears?
"I certainly feel I may say Emmy Lou has decided," repeated Aunt Cordelia. "I'm sure, Katie, tarts are just the thing."
"I'll never believe it," said Uncle Charlie, emphatically, nor was he referring to the tarts.
Did he refuse to be party to any such idea?
"I would not be surprised," said he to Emmy Lou the next evening, "if we hear the circus rumbling by in the night. Our street is the one they usually take from the railroad yards to the circus-grounds. I put six tickets on the mantelpiece where at the most we will need only five. Suppose I take one and see what I can do with it?"