The boys—or should I say "young gentlemen"?—of Barnabas Academy, some six miles distant, had sent us invitations to their "Prize Day": invitations promptly declined by our principal, Miss Harding; for although the day was to be a holiday with us, Miss Harding did not approve of its being spent in the Academy among a party of boys unknown to our friends, and who were always trying to make us break some of our rules. Two or three girls were going with their parents, but our party in "No. 6" had no such opportunity. Vainly had Mattie rebelled. Miss Harding was firm. Then there had entered into the girl's wild head a plan, which she unfolded to us with all her usual eloquence and dramatic energy. We were to get off early in the day on some pretext, and, once out of sight, make our own way to the Academy. Then, as we were invited guests, no one would be the wiser, and as our school was to break up the next day, the chances were that no one would ever betray us to Miss Harding.
"By the time we are back next fall," said Mattie, "it will all be forgotten; and I'll tell you what, girls, Bob and Jim will give us a splendid time. Just you leave it to me."
We trembled, half with fear, half with admiration of Mattie's daring. What were we three mites against her? And then to see the Bob and Jim of her fascinating romances! Bob was described as "perfectly elegant," and Jim was always depicted as "simply superb—one of the most splendid fellows you ever saw." While we talked it over for the last time, I happened to see my own figure and little brown face in the glass, while near it was reflected Mattie's fine brown silk gown, her frizzles and bracelets and rings.
"But, Mattie," I said, suddenly, "how can I go? I've nothing to wear."
"Humph! Let me think," she said, slowly, and added, with her usual impressive air, "Just wait until to-night."
When that decisive period came, it appeared that Mattie had decided to lend me one of her own costumes. It was a last year's white muslin, trimmed with Valenciennes lace, and so much finer than anything I had ever owned that I was completely carried away by the prospect of wearing it. It is true that for a few minutes my sense of refinement was disturbed. In our simple home we would never have dreamed of borrowing any finery.
"Oh, Mattie!" I said, timidly, "I never wore any one else's things. What would papa say?"
Mattie laughed shrilly. "Don't be a goose!" she exclaimed. "Think of my wondering what my father would say to anything I did!"
And so the matter was settled, and by the time I had tried on the muslin dress and a Roman sash, and tied some of Mattie's beads around my neck, I felt no misgivings, and went to bed in high spirits.