“Did Catherine make the bus this morning?” asked Mr. Gould suddenly.
Well, neither Elizabeth Ann nor Roger could answer that question without telling the whole story. Mr. Gould saw that something was wrong, and he began to ask so many questions that soon he and Uncle Hiram knew exactly what had happened. Elizabeth Ann cried, partly because she was tired and partly because she was afraid Catherine would blame her, and partly because she didn’t want Catherine to be scolded. But of course, she had to answer Mr. Gould’s questions and he went after Catherine and brought her to school—though it was then almost three o’clock and school was out at half past three. But first he took Elizabeth Ann and Roger to school, and though Miss Owen hated to do it, she had to mark them tardy. Elizabeth Ann was so tired and sleepy she couldn’t sit up at her desk, so Uncle Hiram took her home where she went to bed and slept till eight o’clock that night when she woke up and had bread and milk, then went to sleep again. But Roger stayed the rest of the day in school and rode home with Dave in the afternoon bus and told him about Elizabeth Ann.
Uncle Hiram explained to Elizabeth Ann before she went to school the next morning, that now, as long as she knew Catherine wouldn’t hurry and didn’t care how many friends she made late for school, that she was not to wait for her again.
“She must learn her own lessons,” said Uncle Hiram. “Perhaps if she finds no one will wait for her, she’ll teach herself to be on time. You can help people just so much, Elizabeth Ann; after that they must help themselves.”
Catherine did make the bus for the next few mornings. She may have been eager to talk over the fair plans with the others in school, since it was almost time for the great affair. Catherine had to remind her friends to bake their cakes, too, and she knew that if she didn’t make a good record in school her daddy would not take her around to collect the various cakes. Whatever her reasons, Catherine was as prompt as the most punctual scholar all the rest of the week.
“What are you going to do, Elizabeth Ann?” asked Roger, who had collected everything he could for the grab bag; Uncle Hiram had given him a basket filled with small things and that had delighted Roger beyond words.
Miss Owen had been pleased, too. There were shells in the basket and small curios, and little foreign coins and packets of postage stamps from strange countries. They all made lovely grab bag prizes.
But Elizabeth Ann wouldn’t tell even Roger what she was going to do at the fair. Miss Owen knew, and Doris knew, but no one else did. Of course Uncle Hiram and Aunt Grace knew—they didn’t count, Elizabeth Ann explained, because grown-ups had to know your secrets so they could help you with your costumes.
“Costumes?” repeated Roger. “Are you going to wear a costume—like the one you wore Hallowe’en at Catherine’s party, Elizabeth Ann?”
“Sh! Don’t tell anyone I’m going to wear a costume,” Elizabeth Ann said. “I told you it’s a secret—and I’m not going to be a black cat!” and that was all Roger could coax from her.