"She was on Elaine Marshall's back steps talking to her as I came by. She had on a blue gingham, and that didn't look very much like going out to luncheon." Blanche ran down the stairs, leaving Amy and Ruth gazing blankly at each other.
"Now I think of it, I believe something has been wrong all the week," Amy exclaimed. "Priscilla has kept to herself, hasn't she? I don't remember her walking home from school with Peggy."
"I don't believe she has. To think of her not asking Peggy!" Ruth gave a refractory lock a jerk which threatened to undo, all in a moment, the result of much patient labor. "I really think I wouldn't have come myself if I'd known."
Downstairs the early arrivals were chatting gaily. Ruth and Amy descended together to join them, feeling little in the mood for festivity of any sort. "If it had been anybody but Peggy," Amy said, angrily on the way down, and Ruth replied, "Seems as if there must be some mistake, Amy. Perhaps she'll come after all."
The doorbell rang several times before one o'clock, but no breathless Peggy appeared, apologizing for the delay, and smiling on everybody. Ruth made no effort to be entertaining, but sat watching the door, and making absent replies to the girl who sat next her. Amy, too, was uneasy, and curious little lulls occurred in the conversation, a phenomenon almost unheard of when a group of girls are together.
"Well, I believe we're all here," Priscilla announced at last. "Excuse me for a minute, while I tell Susan." She rose and stepped into the hall. In an instant Amy had followed, closing the door behind her.
"Priscilla!" Amy's excited tones were plainly audible in the room where the girls sat waiting, though not her words. "You don't mean that these girls are all the party."
"Certainly they're all." Priscilla eyed her friend suspiciously.
"But there are thirteen of us. Do you think I'd sit down thirteen at the table, and on the thirteenth of the month, too." Amy was very much in earnest. Her plump, good-natured face was actually pale. "I tell you I wouldn't think of such a thing."
"I believe there are thirteen. Rae Fletcher couldn't come." Priscilla had recovered herself in a moment. "But that silly old superstition, Amy. You don't mean--"