"Why," said Mrs. Cushing, "there's going to be a party at General Lewis', and Dolly is wild to go. It's just impossible for me to attend to her now."
"Oh, I don't want her intimate at Lewis's," said the Doctor, and immediately he came out behind his wife.
"There; run away to school, Dolly," he said. "Don't trouble your mother; you don't want to go to parties; why, it's foolish to think of it. Run away now, and don't think any more about it—there's a good girl!"
Dolly turned and went back to school, the tears freezing on her cheek as she went. As for not thinking any more about it—that was impossible.
When three o'clock came, scholar after scholar rose and departed, until at last Dolly was the only one remaining in the school-room.
When Dolly came home that night the coast was clear, and the candles were finished and put away to harden in a freezing cold room; the kitchen was once more restored, and Nabby bustled about getting supper as if nothing had happened.
"I really feel sorry about poor little Dolly," said Mrs. Cushing to her husband.
"Do you think she cared much?" asked the Doctor, looking as if a new possibility had struck his mind.
"Yes, indeed, poor child, she went away crying; but what could I do about it? I couldn't stop to dress her."