excitement of the anticipation.
If somebody should come! But who? She had not stayed at home for Morris,
and Linnet would not come early enough to keep them at home, that is if
she ought to remain at home for Linnet.

What could happen? She could not make anything happen? She could not tell
the child the naked truth, the horrible truth. And she could not tell her
a lie. And she could not break her heart by saying that she did not want
her to go. Oh, if Miss Prudence were only at home to decide! But would
she tell _her_ the reason? If she did not take Prue she must tell Miss
Prudence the whole story. She would rather go home and never go to school
any more than to do that. Oh, why must things happen all together? Prue
would soon be awake and asking if it were storming. She had let her take
it for granted last night; she could not think of anything to say. Once
she had said in aggrieved voice:

"I think you might be glad, Marjorie."

But was it not all selfishness, after all? She was arranging to give Prue
a disappointment merely to spare herself. The child would not understand
anything. But then, would Aunt Prue want her to go? She must do what Miss
Prudence would like; that would decide it all.

Oh, dear! Marjorie was a big girl, too big for any nonsense, but there
were unmistakable tears on her cheeks, and she turned away from sleeping
Prue and covered her face with both hands. And then, beside this, Morris
was gone and she had not been kind to him. "Good-bye, Marjorie--_dear_"
the words smote her while they gave her a feeling of something to be very
happy about. There did seem to be a good many things to cry about this
morning.

"Marjorie, are you awake?" whispered a soft voice, while little fingers
were in her hair and tickling her ear.

Marjorie did not want to be awake.

"_Marjorie_," with an appeal in the voice.

Then the tears had to be brushed away, and she turned and put both arms
around the white soft bundle and rubbed her cheek against her hair.

"Oh, _do_ you think it's storming?"

"No."

"You will have to curl my hair."

"Yes."

"And mustn't we get up? Shan't we be late?"

"Listen a minute; I want to tell you something."

"Is it something _dreadful?_ Your voice sounds so."

"No not dreadful one bit. But it is a disappointment for a little girl I
know."

"Oh, is it _me?_" clinging to her.

"Yes, it is you."

"Is it about going to school?" she asked with a quick little sob.

"Yes."