"Of course!" said Ethel. "We are all going."
"Was she very angry when she found out about your earning money?" asked Abby. "I was afraid she would be so vexed that she would not give you any Christmas present."
"She was angry at first," replied Ethel, "but she got over it. I do like her, after all, Abby; she is so straightforward. I don't mean about talking," she continued, seeing Abby laugh: "she is rather too straightforward about that sometimes; but in things like this, for instance. She wanted me to give it all up, but as soon as I told her that I had made a bargain, and ought not to give it up, she agreed with me directly. She made me a tempting offer too;" and she repeated her aunt's proposition.
"You are a good girl, Ethel," said Abby, sighing. "I wish I was."
"I am sure you are quite as good as I am," returned Ethel, now really feeling what she said. "You are a great deal more good-natured, and I am sure you are a better scholar. But don't let us talk about ourselves—tell me what presents you had."
The girls chatted merrily all the way home, and Ethel enjoyed the walk very much. Some apple pies had been made, and Uncle George's turkey got ready for roasting the day before. And now Ethel, having taken off her church dress, busied herself in washing the potatoes and other vegetables, and in setting the table: for they were to have rather an early dinner, Aunt Sally having particularly requested them to be at her house as early as half-past six o'clock.
The turkey and apple pies turned out exceedingly well, and Mr. Mortimer's preserved ginger was declared excellent by all but little Sidney, who complained that it bit him, and declared a preference for apple-sauce. Then all set to work to clear away the dishes, and put the house in order previous to dressing.
And the appointed hour found them at Aunt Sally's, the first of the guests except Mr. Simonton. There was a noise in the kitchen which rather surprised Mrs. Fletcher, who knew her aunt to be a strict disciplinarian in all such matters. But Mrs. Bertie did not seem to be at all disturbed by it.
It was nearly half-put seven when Mrs. Coles arrived, and as she sailed into the drawing room, rustling in flounced brocade and resplendent in ornaments, she was met with a sharp reproof from her aunt for being so tardy.
"When I say half-past six, I mean half-past six," she replied to her niece's excuses. "I don't mean seven nor eight. As to staying to dress, you would have looked much better in my opinion if you had not dressed so much. And that child, Abby, in pink silk! I thought you had more sense."