“It’s likely,” she said to herself, “that I’ll never have another chance to do as I like,—not for years, anyway,—and I’ll have the good of this one.” Having come to this decision, Lettie found herself hungry, for she had been too excited to take any luncheon at the usual hour. She accordingly went down to the pantry where the cook had spread out the morning’s baking; there was a goodly array of pies and cakes and other good things cooling on the shelves, and Lettie thought herself in great luck.
“Now I’ll have a good lunch,” she said to herself, “and no bread and butter, either! I hate bread and butter!”
She helped herself to several little cakes which cook made particularly nice, and with them she ate part of a jar of marmalade which she opened for the purpose; next she took a tart or two, and then turned her attention to the row of pies on another shelf. Looking them over carefully, she chose her favorite, a custard pie. “Now I won’t eat any old crust, as mother makes me,” she said. So she took a spoon and began on the contents of the pie, thus demolishing, I regret to say, a whole pie. Then, calmly dipping into a pan of milk, taking cream and all, she drank a glass of that, and, feeling fully satisfied, she left the pantry, and returned to her room to prepare for the evening.
“I guess I’ll wear this silk dress after all,” she said to herself, for she was invited to stay all night with Stella after the sail. “I’ll have to come home through the streets in the morning, and if the white one gets soiled it won’t look very nice; and besides, I want mother to see that I can take care of my clothes myself.”
So, wearing her pretty silk dress and delicate shoes, and carrying another pair of gloves,—for she had lost the white ones in the excitement of the morning,—she started out, leaving word with the servants that she should stay with Stella all night.
She reached the house safely, and was warmly welcomed by Stella, and in the excitement of planning and talking over the sail of the evening she almost forgot, for a time, the unpleasant affair of the morning.
“It’s a pity you wore that pretty new dress,” said Stella, who was clad in a sailor suit of dark wool, for the boating; “I’m afraid you’ll spoil it,—a boat’s a dirty place.”
“I guess I shan’t hurt it,” said Lettie.
“I wish you’d wear one of my woolen suits,” said Stella; “I hate to see a pretty dress spoiled, and that couldn’t be hurt.”
“No, indeed!” said Lettie; “I couldn’t wear any one’s dress, and if that gets spoiled—why, I’ll have to get another,” she added proudly, though she knew in her heart that her mother could not afford another, that season.