But how could we meddle with the Marchbankses?  With Olivia and Adelaide, of all the Marchbankses?  We could not take it for granted that they meant to ask us.  There was no such thing as suggesting a compromise.  Rosamond looked high and splendid, and said not another word.

In the afternoon of Wednesday Adelaide and Maud Marchbanks rode by, homeward, on their beautiful little brown, long-tailed Morgans.

“They don’t mean to,” said Barbara.  “If they did, they would have stopped.”

“Perhaps they will send a note to-morrow,” said Ruth.

“Do you think I am waiting, in hopes?” asked Rosamond, in her clearest, quietest tones.

Pretty soon she came in with her hat on.  “I am going over to invite the Hobarts,” she said.

“That will settle it, whatever happens,” said Barbara.

“Yes,” said Rosamond; and she walked out.

The Hobarts were “ever so much obliged to us; and they would certainly come.”  Mrs. Hobart lent Rosamond an old English book of “Holiday Sports and Observances,” with ten pages of Halloween charms in it.

From the Hobarts’ house she walked on into Z——­, and asked Leslie Goldthwaite and Helen Josselyn, begging Mrs. Ingleside to come too, if she would; the doctor would call for them, of course, and should have his supper; but it was to be a girl-party in the early evening.

Leslie was not at home; Rosamond gave the message to her mother.  Then she met Lucilla Waters in the street.

“I was just thinking of you,” she said.  She did not say, “coming to you,” for truly, in her mind, she had not decided it.  But seeing her gentle, refined face, pale always with the life that had little frolic in it, she spoke right out to that, without deciding.

“We want you at our Halloween party on Saturday.  Will you come?  You will have Helen and the Inglesides to come with, and perhaps Leslie.”

Rosamond, even while delivering her message to Mrs. Goldthwaite for Leslie, had seen an unopened note lying upon the table, addressed to her in the sharp, tall hand of Olivia Marchbanks.

She stopped in at the Haddens, told them how sorry she had been to find they were promised; asked if it were any use to go to the Hendees’; and when Elinor said, “But you will be sure to be asked to the Marchbankses yourselves,” replied, “It is a pity they should come together, but we had quite made up our minds to have this little frolic, and we have begun, too, you see.”

Then she did go to the Hendees’, although it was dark; and Maria Hendee, who seldom went out to parties, promised to come.  “They would divide,” she said.  “Fanny might go to Olivia’s.  Holiday-keeping was different from other invites.  One might take liberties.”

Now the Hendees were people who could take liberties, if anybody.  Last of all, Rosamond went in and asked Pen Pennington.

It was Thursday, just at dusk, when Adelaide Marchbanks walked over, at last, and proffered her invitation.