Then his cheerfulness departed.
“Though, when you come to think of it,” he said, “it jolly well won’t be much fun for me.”
“Well,” said Ginger, “s’pose we all try to go there the same time. We can leave your ole Aunt Jane somewhere an’ go off, can’t we?”
William brightened.
“That sounds better,” he said. “I guess she’ll be quite easy to leave.”
*****
Aunt Jane was so nervous that she did not sleep at all on the night before the day arranged for the treat. Never before in her blameless life had Aunt Jane deliberately entered a place of entertainment.
“I do hope,” she murmured on the threshold, holding William firmly by the hand, “that there’s nothing really wrong in it.”
She was dressed in a long and voluminous black skirt, a long and voluminous black coat, and a small black hat, adorned with black ears of wheat, perched upon her prim little head.
Inside she stopped, bewildered. The glaring lights, the noise, the shouting, seemed to be drawing Aunt Jane’s eyes out of her sockets and through her large, round spectacles.