She swung upon him in a fury. "No, it was not kind. It was mean... It was mean!"
"Oh, Betty," he begged in consternation, "don't say that. I'm sure—"
"Oh, you don't know... I heard the girls talking in the post-office— Angle Tuthill and Mame Garrison and Bessie Gabriel... I was round by the boxes where they couldn't see me, but I could hear them, and they were laughing because I was invited. They said the reason Josie did it was because she knew I didn't have anything to wear, and she wanted to hear what excuse I'd make for not going. Ah, I heard them!"
"Oh, but Betty, Betty," he pleaded; "don't you mind what they say. Don't—"
"But I do mind; I can't help mindin'. They're mean." She paused, her features hardening. "I'm going to that party," she declared tensely: "I'm goin' to that party and—and I'm goin' to have a dress to go in, too! I don't care what I do—I'm goin' to have that dress!"
Sam would have soothed her as best he might, but she would neither look at nor come near him.
"We'll see," he said gently. "We'll see. I'll try—"
She turned on him, exasperated beyond thought. "That only means you can't help me!"
"Oh, no, it doesn't. I'll do what I can—"
"Have you got any money now?"