In the morning the boys drove them over to Dogtown through the bright sunshine and they “borrowed” little Hen for the day. The pretty new frock delighted her. She put it on, and then marched out across the platform of the cottage in full furbelow, her hair in curl-papers and Mrs. Foley’s ancient purple silk parasol held over her head.
“Be careful of that parasol, Henrietta,” admonished Mrs. Foley. “’Tis the wan remaining thing that I had on me wedding day to show off wit’, that me man hasn’t hocked. The handle is rale ivory.”
“Oh, see Spotted Snake with the parasol!” shrieked one of the smaller urchins.
Immediately Henrietta stuck out her tongue and writhed her freckled features into a horrifying mask. “You look out, Sudsy M’Guire, or the witch will put the come-other on you,” threatened Henrietta.
“Ain’t she the smart young one?” said Mrs. Foley proudly to Jessie. “She’s got ’em all scaret of her—me own byes like the rest. And they are all saying that she made the bad weather yesterday that ruined the party of them Ringolds and Moons,” and the bulgy Mrs. Foley was left shaking in her chair when the motor car rolled away.
The Roselawn girls combed out Henrietta’s hair and smartened her up with ribbons before they started for Stratfordtown. They likewise managed to get her to leave the purple parasol behind.
“I s’pose,” she confessed, “that I’d better not wear everything I’ve got that’s fashionable all on one day. But that parasol is dreadful stylish.”
The party arrived at the Stratford Electric Company plant so near the time for the concert that they had no time to look up Mark Stratford and give him the watch. But Bertha Blair was in the anteroom at the top of the factory, and she was very much excited. Glad as she was to see little Henrietta, there was something that had ruffled her composure.
“Oh, I have the strangest thing to tell you, Miss Jessie,” she whispered to Jessie Norwood. “Wait till the concert is over. I must speak to you.”
“Is it about Henrietta?” Jessie asked.