"Oh, Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly in dismay and she stood quite still.
"Aren't you glad?" asked Phronsie, her joy suddenly hushed.
"And I've done it myself—spoiled all this loveliness," cried Polly passionately, little white lines coming around her mouth, "and Jasper here!"
"Oh, Polly, Polly!" Phronsie clasped her gown imploringly, "don't,
Polly."
"I just won't go to the school," declared Polly at white heat; "I don't care for the concert, but I'll send a note over to say that I am detained at home."
"What is it, Polly?" begged Phronsie, all sorts of dreadful surmises seizing her, "do tell me, Polly, won't you?"
"It's—nothing; you wouldn't understand, child," said Polly quickly.
"There, don't ask."
Phronsie crept away in a grieved fashion, to be presently folded into Polly's warm arms. "I'm bad to-day, Phronsie dear. There, Pet, now you are all right, aren't you?" as she hugged her close.
"I am, if you are, Polly," said Phronsie doubtfully.
"Well, I'm all right now," said Polly, her brow clearing; "the bad has gone at last, I hope, to stay away, Phronsie. Now I must hurry and eat this nice luncheon you've fixed for me;" and she sprang toward the table.