"There are several ways, and we must decide which is the best. One is to refuse invitations to the sociable next week."
"But I've just got a lovely new dress expressly for it!" cried Portia, tragically.
"Then we might decline providing any supper," began Pris.
"That wouldn't prevent the boys from providing it, and I never could get through the night without a morsel of something!" exclaimed Polly, who loved to see devoted beings bending before her, with offerings of ice, or struggling manfully to steer a glass of lemonade through a tumultuous sea of silk and broadcloth, feeling well repaid by a word or smile from her when they landed safely.
"True, and it would be rather rude and resentful; for I am sure they will be models of deportment next time," and gentle Pris showed signs of relenting, though that foolish joke bad cost her more than either of the others.
For a moment all sat gazing thoughtfully at the fire, trying to devise some awful retribution for the sinners, no part of which should fall upon themselves. Suddenly Polly clapped her hands, crying with a triumphant air,—
"I've got it, girls! I've got it!"
"What? How? Tell us quick!"
"We will refuse to go to the first sociable, and that will make a tremendous impression, for half the nice girls will follow our lead, and the boys will be in despair. Every one will ask why we are not there; and what can those poor wretches say but the truth? Won't that be a bitter pill for my lords and gentlemen?"
"It will certainly be one to us," said Portia, thinking of the "heavenly blue dress" with a pang.