"I suppose you're right," Carrie assented, "though I did have a good time."
"An' it was you didn't want to come!" grinned Katie as they went out upon the cool street.
"I know." Carrie's round face grew hard and puzzled. "I know," she admitted, "only sometimes——"
"Och, come on, an' cheer up! We must write our letter for the brewery-man before we get to bed, Carrie-girl."
They did write it, but Carrie, when she had gone into her own room for the last night she was to spend there, sat for some time motionless upon the edge of the cot.
"I know," she repeated as if to some invisible confessor; "I know both sides of it, and, honestly, I don't know which is worse. I know all that can be said, only—sometimes—I wonder——"
XIII
JAIL-DELIVERY
Rose was ill—she had been drinking too much for the past week—and Violet, in her no longer fresh red kimona, was in the kitchen talking to Cassie when, one morning, the new driver of the brewery-wagon stopped at the door.
"Morning," he said with what at once struck Violet, who was now constantly on the watch, as a visible effort at nonchalance.