“Well, cruiser, then. Sabina is afraid that papa won’t go unless we all have grand new dresses, but mother can put on her old black silk, and I am going if I have to wear a cotton gown.”
“To think of that person accepting our money, and absenting herself in this disgraceful way!”
“Accepting our money! That shows what it is to have an imagination. Why, I don’t suppose Dorothy has had a penny for three months, and you know the dress material was bought on credit.”
“You must remember,” chided the mother mildly, “that your father is not rich.”
“Oh, I am only pleading for a little humanity. The girl for some reason has gone out. She hasn’t had a bite to eat since breakfast time, and I know there’s not a silver piece in her pocket to buy a bun in a milk-shop.”
“She has no business to be absent without leave,” said Sabina.
“How you talk! As if she were a sailor on a battleship—I mean a cruiser.”
“Where can the girl have gone?” wailed the mother, almost wringing her hands, partially overcome by the crisis. “Did she say anything about going out to you, Katherine? She sometimes makes a confidant of you, doesn’t she?”
“Confidant!” exclaimed Sabina wrathfully.
“I know where she has gone,” said Katherine with an innocent sigh.