“Well,” said Matilda, brightening, “I don't know but it will do just as well if I ask Imogen. Mother told me once that if there was anything very important came up when she was away that I could ask Imogen.”
Imogen was Matilda's eldest sister. She was almost eighteen, and she was going to a party that night, and was hurrying to finish a beautiful crimson tibet dress to wear.
“Now don't you talk to me and hinder me one moment. I've everything I can do to finish this dress to wear to the party,” she said, when Matilda and Comfort went into the sitting-room.
“Can't I go to Bolton with Comfort Pease, Imogen?” asked Matilda.
“I thought you were going with Uncle Jared—didn't mother say you might? Now don't talk to me, Matilda.”
“Uncle Jared's got to go to Ware to buy the horse, and he can't take us.”
“Oh, I forgot. Well, how can you go, then? You and Comfort had better sit down and play checkers, and be contented.”
“We could walk,” ventured Matilda.
“Walk to Bolton? You couldn't.”
“It's only three miles, and we'd drag each other on my sled.”