Mr. Swan did not seem to be at all surprised at this confession, but stood up suddenly.
“Look here,” he said; “you keep your seat. Don’t say a word; she won’t come back, and you don’t know any one else, I’ll be bound. Anyway, don’t talk. I’m going to get you an ice.”
“No, no,” cried Grace, the color flooding her face; “not a single thing; I won’t take it. I can’t. Why, I’ve come here all dressed up as one of Mrs. Willoughby’s parlor boarders. I’m only Grace Tupper—you don’t know. It would choke me.”
“It’s pretty bad, I’ll not deny,” said Charley, sitting down; “but if everybody told how they got to receptions, you wouldn’t be alone in humbuggery, I’ll venture to say.”
“But I’ve disobeyed my Au—Aunt Ath—Atherton,” said Grace, battling with her sobs, and twisting her fingers to keep from crying like a baby, “and—I—hired this bonnet, and—and”—
“And you’ve spoiled yourself with those horrid eyebrows,” finished Charley; “and if I were you, I’d take off that monstrosity of a frizz, and put the thing in your pocket.”
“Oh, I can’t!” gasped Grace, raising her blue eyes in terror to his face; “why, Aunt will know me then.”
“Is she here?” demanded Charley with a whistle. He couldn’t help it; this last was too much even for him.
“Yes—that is, she was coming. Oh, dear me! and I suppose I’ll be expelled from Miss Willoughby’s school, and I’ll go home, and it’ll kill father and mother and Jimmy and the baby. I never thought of that.”
“At least I believe we’ll save Jimmy and the baby,” said Charley in a tone of encouragement.