"Why, I might," she stammered feeling her way. "No, I can't," she went on decidedly. "The truth is, Ruth, I'm not going to buy any Christmas presents this year, after all."
"Oh," said Ruth coldly. "Then, of course, you won't want to go in town."
"No, I think I'd better not. I'm sorry,—I can't explain."
"You don't need to explain. You have a perfect right to do as you please, of course." Ruth's tone was so freezingly polite that Charlotte almost shivered.
"I must run back home," she said at last with an attempt at cheerfulness. "Would you like to have me ask Betty or Dolly to go with you?"
"No, thank you," and Ruth busied herself in the tying of a bow with such complete absorption that Charlotte felt that the best and only thing she could do was to go. She was so absorbed in her own disagreeable thoughts that she plodded along through the snow with her head down, and almost ran over Joe, who was patiently standing in the middle of the walk hoping for just that result.
"Why don't you warn a fellow when you are coming down upon him like a ship under full sail, Charlotte?" he asked with pretended indignation.
"Get right out of my way, little boy," answered Charlotte, with assumed scorn. "I suppose now that vacation has begun you children will be under my feet all the time."
Joe chuckled softly. He would have been disappointed if Charlotte had answered in any other way.
"What's the matter with you, Charlotte?" he asked as she passed him and he fell into line behind her. "You look as though you had lost your last friend."