Pamela laughed. "There are eleven more weeks to do it in," she said.
But Kitty covered her ears. "Don't, don't," she cried—"just when I have been telling myself that time is flying, and that I haven't many more chances."
"Well, you haven't many," laughed Pamela. "Of course we don't go every week. I think you are wise, though, to get your things while you have the money, and if you see things later that you like better you mustn't mind."
"I shall keep my eyes turned away from the shops," said Kitty. "Now be quiet, Pamela, while I make my list."
"Mine is ready," said Pamela, with something between a laugh and a sigh, and she held up a blank sheet.
"Haven't you any one to get anything for?" said Kitty sympathetically, sorry At once that she had talked so much about herself. "Poor Pamela!"
"Only Miss Hammond," said Pamela. "We generally give her some flowers— most of us do, at least. Rhoda Collins doesn't; she says it seems such a waste of money, as flowers fade so soon. I suggested one day that she should give Miss Hammond a cake instead, as that at any rate was useful."
"And did she?"
"No; she said one couldn't get anything very nice for a penny."
Kitty tittered. "Flowers for Miss Hammond," she wrote on her list.
"What do you give to Miss Pidsley?"