Miss Herrick, after her last remark, relapsed into thought.
"There is another thing," said Elizabeth, presently; "we broke one of your plates."'
"So we did," said Valentine. Then, with evident effort—"at least, I did. Elizabeth had nothing to do with it. I broke it."
His little sister looked at him gratefully. At last he was coming to her rescue. But this final bid of information made small impression on Miss Herrick. She was leaning back in her chair lost in thought.
"Is—is that room still open?" she asked at length.
"Yes, Aunt Caroline."
"Go up and close it; and then, Elizabeth, come to my room. I wish to speak to you alone."
The children, glad to escape, ran up stairs. The door of the room stood wide open, the plates containing the few remnants of the feast were piled recklessly together—everything was in disorder.
They carried the dishes down to the pantry, and put the table back into its accustomed place. They straightened things up as best they could, and then they pulled in the blinds and closed the windows.
Elizabeth locked the door and descended with the keys to her aunt's room. Her party had been a failure from beginning to end. It was very hard for her to keep from crying, but she was determined not to do it—in Valentine's presence, at least.