"Do you really try to get over it, Edith?"
"No-o, not very hard," she faltered. "I can't forgive her for coming and taking my place, and—and—I don't want to forgive her. There, I know you will think I am bad and horrible and everything else, but I can't help it."
And, rising abruptly, she left the room.
"Poor old Edith!" sighed Cynthia, compassionately. "She will come round some time; she can't help it."
On New-Year's eve was to be the Franklins' party.
"Edith, we must have it very original and unique, something quite different from anything we have ever had in our lives," said Cynthia, a few days before.
"How can we? There's nothing new."
"Yes, there is, right in my head. I have an idea."
"What in the world is it?"