“I’m glad she plays Katherine,” said Richard Kendrick decidedly.  “I can’t imagine your sister in boots!  I’ve no doubt, though, she’d make them different from other boots—­if she wore them!”

“Of course she would,” agreed Ruth.  Then she began to talk about something else, for a bit of fear had come into her mind that Rob wouldn’t enjoy all this discussion of herself, if she should know about it.

She was such an honest young person, however, that she had a good deal of difficulty, when she had done her errand and was at home again, in not telling Roberta of her meeting with Richard Kendrick.  She did venture to ask a question.

“Is Mr. Kendrick invited for to-night, Rob?”

“Not by me,” Roberta responded promptly.

“He might be, by one of the girls, I suppose?”

“The girls invite whom they like.  I haven’t seen the list.  I don’t imagine he would be on it.  I hope not, certainly.”

“Why?  Don’t you think he would enjoy it?”

“No, I do not.  Musical comedies are probably more to his taste than amateur productions of Shakespeare.  But I’m not thinking about the audience—­the players are enough for me.”  Then, suddenly, an idea which flashed into her mind caused her to turn and scan Ruth’s ingenuous young face.

“You haven’t been inviting Mr. Kendrick yourself, Rufus?”

“Why, how could I?” But the girl flushed rosily in a way which betrayed her interest.  “I just—­wondered.”

“How did you come to wonder?  Have you seen him?”

Ruth being Ruth, there was nothing to do but to tell Roberta of the encounter with Richard.  “He said he was glad you were to play Katherine, because he couldn’t imagine you in boots,” she added, hoping this news might appease her sister.  But it did nothing of the sort.

“As if it made the slightest difference to him!  But if he feels that way, I wish I were to wear the boots, and I wish he might be there to see me do it.  As it is, I hope Mrs. Stuart Henderson will be deaf to his audacity, if he dares to ask an invitation.  It would be quite like him!”

“I don’t see why—­” began Ruth.

But Roberta interrupted her.  “There are lots of things you don’t see, little sister,” said she, with a swift and impetuous embrace of the slender form beside her.  Then she turned, frowned, flung out her arm, and broke into one of Katherine’s flaming speeches: 

"’Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak: 
And speak I will:  I am no child, no babe: 
Your betters have endured me say my mind
And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.’"

“Oh, but you do have such a lovely voice!” cried Ruth.  “You can’t make even the Shrew sound shrewish—­in her tone, I mean.”

“Can’t I, indeed?  Wait till to-night!  If your friend Mr. Kendrick is to be there I’ll be more shrewish than you ever dreamed—­it will be a real stimulus!”