Enna came in while they were on that subject, and exclaimed angrily that it was too bad they should be invited and she not.
“You are too young,” said Lora, “and besides always contrive to make yourself disagreeable wherever you go.”
Lora’s words were by no means as oil upon the troubled waters. Enna flew into a violent passion and abused her sister and niece in turn. Lora was “a mean, spiteful, hateful thing; Elsie not a bit better.”
“Why, Enna, what have I done?” Elsie asked in surprise, but with a gentle patience and forbearance that ought to have disarmed her accuser.
“You’ve done a great deal,” stormed Enna; “I believe you’re always running to Horace with tales about me. And you’ve gone and got ahead of me by inviting all the girls to the Oaks for Christmas, so that I can’t have any of them here.”
“Now, Enna,” expostulated Lora, “there’s no use in talking so. You know mamma has said she wouldn’t be bothered with a houseful of company this Christmas, and we younger ones are all going away to spend the holidays.”
“No, I’m not,” interrupted the irate Enna. “I’d rather a thousand times stay at home than go to the old Oaks, to have Horace lecturing and reproving, and Elsie running to him all the time with tales about me.”
“O Enna!” Elsie exclaimed, blushing painfully. “I never tell anything about you unless papa orders me, and then you know I can’t help it.”
“You could if you chose. I’d never tell tales for being ordered!” returned Enna, with scornful look and tone.
“No,” remarked Lora, coolly, “but you are ready enough to do it without. And you needn’t say another word about Elsie getting ahead of you in sending out invitations, for you never thought of doing so till you heard that she had; and besides, you are so unpopular with your mates that they would find some excuse for not coming, if you did invite them.”