"Was it lovely?" she demanded. "Was it lovely, Muriel?"
Mrs. Hammond spared Muriel the pain of a reply.
"Muriel has been a very naughty girl, Connie. And you must lie down and go to sleep and not talk to her."
To be told no more? Muriel naughty? Good Muriel? Muriel who had always been held up as a model to naughty Connie? Here indeed was a nine days' wonder.
Connie snuggled down with expectant submission in her blankets; but even after Mrs. Hammond had kissed Muriel "Good night" with grave displeasure the culprit would say nothing. She lay gazing at the flickering fire-light with wide, tear-filled eyes, and saying over and over to herself, "The Party was spoilt, The Party was spoilt."
For, in her unhappiness, this was the most poignant anguish, that by some mysterious cruelty of events Muriel had never found the Party.