“Yes, I’m ready,” sighed Sally Rose. “I’ll go down the back stairs, I think, and through the garden. Good-by, dear.” She held up her soft cheek.
Kitty brushed her lips against it. “Good-by, Sally Rose,” she said. “Don’t get into any trouble, and come home soon.”
Sally Rose laughed a little uneasily and made an awkward motion to step forward. But she did not step forward. She stopped suddenly, twisted her body, or tried to, and put her hand to her side.
“My, a bone jabbed me,” she said.
After a moment she tried again to move forward. This time she succeeded in taking three little hobbled steps. Then she swayed clumsily, tripped, and fell on the rag rug. There she lay like an overset turtle, unable to rise.
Kitty stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth to choke back her laughter. Then she ran forward and struggled to hoist Sally Rose to her feet.
“I—I don’t think I can walk in this thing,” gasped Sally Rose. “It’s like having two feet in one breeches leg. And the bones hurt me. And it’s getting late. Take it off, Kit. Take it off at once. Here’s the key.”
Still trying to keep back her laughter at the other girl’s ridiculous plight, Kitty pulled off the blue dress and the petticoat and fitted the tiny key into the jeweled lock. It refused to turn, and she twisted it gently.
“You’ll be in a pickle,” she muttered, “if it should break.”
“Don’t you dare break it!” squealed Sally Rose.