“I am going to call him down, Bella,” I said firmly. “Let him help you out. I’m sure I don’t see why I should have all this when the two of you—”
“Oh, no, no! Surely, Kit, you wouldn’t be so cruel!” she whispered pleadingly. “You know what he would think. He—oh, Kit, let them all get settled for the night, and then come down, like a dear, and help me out. I know loads of ways—honestly I do.”
“If I leave you here,” I debated, “what about the policeman?”
“Never mind him”—frantically. “Listen! There’s Jim up in the pantry. Run, for the sake of Heaven!”
So—I ran. At the top of the stairs I met Jimmy, very crumpled as to shirt-front and dejected as to face.
“I’ve been hunting everywhere for you,” he said dismally. “I thought you had added to the general merriment by falling downstairs and breaking your neck.”
I went past him with my chin up. Now that I had time to think about it, I was furiously angry with him.
“Kit!” he called after me appealingly, but I would not hear. Then he adopted different tactics. He took advantage of my catching my foot in the lace of my gown to pass me, and to stand with his back against the door.
“You’re not going until you hear me, Kit,” he declared miserably. “In the first place, for all you are down on me, is it my fault? Honestly, now IS IT MY FAULT?”
I refused to speak.