I chose the latter course, and I took a time when they were both
together. At the breakfast-table I mentioned casually that the school
was to have a sleigh-ride and supper the next Friday afternoon and
evening, and that Paul Mayhew had asked me to go with him, I said I
hoped it would be a pleasant night, but that I should wear my sweater
under my coat, anyway, and I'd wear my leggings, too, if they thought
it necessary.
(Sweater and leggings! Two of Mother's hobbies. Artful child!)
But if I thought that a sweater and a pair of leggings could muffle
their ears as to what had gone before, I soon found my mistake.
"A sleigh-ride, supper, and not come home until evening?" cried
Mother. "And with whom, did you say?"
"Paul Mayhew," I answered. I still tried to speak casually; at the
same time I tried to indicate by voice and manner something of the
great honor that had been bestowed upon their daughter.
Father was impressed--plainly impressed; but not at all in the way I
had hoped he would be. He gave me a swift, sharp glance; then looked
straight at Mother.
"Humph! Paul Mayhew! Yes, I know him," he said grimly. "And I'm
dreading the time when he comes into college next year."
"You mean--" Mother hesitated and stopped.
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