Milly knew this was very wrong, and ought to have said so to Flaxie. If they had already done one foolish thing, it would make it no better to do another foolish thing, as you can see in a moment. But Milly wanted to please Flaxie, so she said stoutly:
“Oh, yes, I’m going!”
Silly children! Flaxie pretended she was running away from her party, but she didn’t mean to stay away. Oh, no! She wouldn’t have missed the party for anything. Even now she was beginning to wonder what Dora was baking.
The woods were deep and high and dark. Before they had gone quarter of a mile Flaxie wanted to turn back, but waited for Milly to speak first.
“Oh dear!” cried Milly, trembling, for she had never been in such a place before. “You s’pose it’s night, Flaxie? Has the sun set?”
“No, it hasn’t. But we ought to brought a imbreller; it’s goin’ to rain,” replied Flaxie, holding out her hand to catch a drop. “I didn’t spect you’d be so ’fraid, Milly Allen; but if you are afraid, we’ll go right home this minute.”
They turned, but the wrong way, and instead of going home, only struck deeper into the woods. They didn’t see the sky at all, and all the light seemed to come from the gay leaves and the gold of Flaxie’s hair; for I am sorry to say she had lost her hat.
“Ha’ pas’ two; ha’ pas’ two,” said she dreamily. “Let’s go home to the party.”
“Thought you hated the old party,” said Milly, falling over a dead tree, and crying.
“Well, I was only in fun. Don’t you know when I’m in fun, you goosie?”