"Yes, but—but, Mittie—we can't both leave Grannie all those hours. She would be so hurt."
"So cross, you mean. You don't expect me to stay behind, I hope! Me—to spend a long endless day here, poking in Grannie's bedroom, and picking up her stitches, and being scolded for every mortal thing I do and don't do, while you are off on a lovely jaunt! Not I! You're very much mistaken if that is what you expect. Will Mrs. Ferris send the carriage or the motor?"
"She is sending the boat. And her son——"
"What! is he going to row us? That nice fellow! He rows splendidly, I know. I shall get him to let me take an oar. It's as easy as anything, going down the stream. Oh, we must do it, Joan—we really, really must! Grannie will have to put up for once with being alone. Is he coming by himself?"
"Yes—no—I mean, he will drop his sister Mary at The Laurels and come on for us, and then take her up as we go back."
"The Laurels? Oh, just a few minutes off. Mary—she's the eldest. When does he come? Eleven o'clock! No time to waste. We must put on our new frocks. You had better tell Grannie at once that we are going. I shall keep out of her way. You'll manage her best."
"But if she doesn't like to be left?"
"Then she'll have to do without the liking! Yes, I know what you mean, Joan. You want me to stay here, and set you free. And I'm not going to do it. I simply won't—won't—won't! It's no earthly use your trying to make me. I'm asked too, and I mean to go."
"Mittie, you've not seen the note yet. I think you ought to read it. She asks me first—and then she just says, would I like to bring——?"
"It doesn't matter, and I don't want to see! It's enough that I'm invited." Mittie had a quick temper, apt to flare out suddenly. She jumped up, and flounced towards the door. "I shall get ready; and you'd better make haste, or you'll be late."