Judy was engaged in selecting all the most branching and leafy boughs of holly she could find, while the florist looked on uneasily.
That afternoon they spent an hour beautifying their yellow sitting room. And all the time Molly’s mind was harking back to Christmas a year ago, when the Greens had busied themselves preparing such a delightful party for Otoyo and her.
“And I said he was not a loyal friend,” she said to herself. “Oh, if I could only unsay those words!”
She sat down at her desk and seized a pen.
“What are you going to do?” asked an inner voice.
“I am going to write a note and tell him I’m sorry, and then I’m going over to the cloisters and slip it under his door. It will ease my mind, even if he doesn’t get the note until he comes back. He’ll know then that I couldn’t go to sleep Christmas Eve until I had apologized.”
The note finished, she carefully addressed and sealed it. Judy was in her own room composing a joint letter to her mother and father, and did not see Molly when she slipped out of the room and hurried downstairs. Outside, the pale winter twilight still lingered and the sky was piled high with fleecy white clouds.
“It’s going to snow,” thought Molly, as she hurried along the arcade and opened the little oak door leading into the cloisters.