"O, I don't believe Peggy will come. We had a little misunderstanding, you see."
"It wouldn't do any harm to try," suggested Ruth, still painstakingly matter-of-fact, while Amy added with less tact, "If anybody would do it, it's Peggy. She's the forgivingest thing."
Peggy was at the dinner table when an agitated knocking sounded at the side-door. A breathless voice in the hall made inquiries of Sally. "Somebody to see you, Miss Peggy," was Sally's grudging announcement. She disapproved of people who came at meal time.
To Peggy's amazement it was Priscilla waiting in the hall, Priscilla in her best white frock, and with a pallor that was rather appealing. "I know you won't do it," was her opening remark.
"Won't do what, Priscilla?" Peggy was to be pardoned if her manner was a little formal.
"There are thirteen of us, and Amy won't sit down at all. But it serves me right if my party's spoiled, after treating you that way."
Priscilla gulped. Peggy's manner became less dignified.
"You mean that there's thirteen and you want me for the fourteenth."
"Of course you won't come. But it serves me right to have you say no." Priscilla bit her lip to keep from crying.
Peggy threw a hurried glance at the mirror. "Will my hair do? I've got to change my dress, of course."