However, the morning rose clear and sunny, the snow was thawing, and in many places the runners of the sleighs grated on bare ground.
Bluebell was exultant. The elements evidently didn't mean to oppose her, but she was somewhat disconcerted at dinner by Miss Opie's remarks on her Sunday dress, which, being of a becoming hue, she had rashly donned.
"Are you going visiting, Bluebell, that you are so smart?"
"Oh, dear no; only for a walk."
"How foolish to draggle that mazarin blue poplinette in sloppy snow! Once let it get any snow stains on, and it will look quite shabby on bright spring days."
"It's no use having things, if one doesn't wear them," returned the girl, evasively. But when she came down ten minutes later equipped for her walk, she encountered Miss Opie again in full marching order.
"My, dear, as you are dressed so nicely, I dare say you are going 'on King,' and so am I; so we can walk together."
Consternation in Bluebell's face—it was only a quarter to three.
"I am going quite in the opposite direction," cried she, hurriedly, and, without waiting to see the effect of her words, abruptly fled.
"Just Canadian independence," muttered Miss Opie; "It makes all the girls such thoroughly bad style."