"I think you'll find," said Mrs. Bonnet, "that it ain't most particularly the cost of the doll gets you into trouble—There she comes this minute!"
The door-bell had rung. Profound silence reigned above, while all listened. Tibbie stopped crying.
"Good-night," came Mrs. Darling's sweet voice, presently, floating up from the foot of the stairs.
"Good-night," came the Rev. Dorel Goodhue's.
There was a rustle of silken skirts.
"Oh, Cousin Cynthia!"
"Yes?"
"At ten, did you say—or half past?"
"I said ten—or half past. Good-night."