"I don't want to; I want to go myself," said Matilda, hanging back.
"Then you don't want to draw," said the young man, severely. "Very well, you give up your chance. Elvira, it's your turn."
"Oh, I will, I will," cried Matilda, terribly alarmed, and, making a lunge, she twitched out the middle piece, so very tiny it was scarcely worth being there at all.
"Hoh, hoh!" snickered Mark. And Luke gave a little crow. Badly as he should miss Elvira, he wouldn't for the world want her to lose the chance of going.
"Now, Elvira."
"Oh, I'm goin'," she said, confidently, laying hold of the outside piece.
Luke trembled; that couldn't be the one. Out it came,—there was a second's lull,—and a strip so long it had to be doubled up in the middle was flying from her hand.
"I told you I was goin'," she said.