“I don’t know.  How differently things have turned out from our expectations?  I wouldn’t mind anything but that darling dad of Jane’s.  The thought sickens me,” and the bobbed head drooped dejectedly.

“But I am more at fault than you,” sobbed Sally.  “I feel like running away from everything.”

“So do I, but we neither will do it.  That’s the trouble with reformation.  I told you I should hate to be reformed—­it tags on so many responsibilities.  But we are both in for it.  And the dance and Ted wanting to come!”

“Yes, isn’t it just dreadful?  What shall we do?”

“He has got to come, of course.  Couldn’t disappoint that boy.  Oh, I’ll tell you, Kitten!  Let’s write and tell him he must play cousin to both of us.  We’ll give him a name, say Teddy Barrett, and then all the girls will be crazy about him, and he will be sure to go in for a lark!”

“That might do,” agreed Sally.  “It would seem cruel to keep him away.  But how about our mail?  We can’t have it come to Dol’s box any more.”

“Don’t want to; won’t have anything to do with her,” snapped Shirley.  “I have a box of our own, and don’t see why we didn’t think of it before.  She is writing me all sorts of apologies, of course, just wants more money, but I know now we might have done this whole thing differently if it had not been for her interference.  It was she who scared us so of Jane Allen and her friends.  And they would have been such a help if I had not been—­so mulish.”

“Never mind,” Sally tried to console her.  “We could not possibly foresee—­although I should like to foresee how to get out of it all without scandalizing Jane.”

“Trust one step to lead to the next,” said Shirley, and that sounded like a proverb of Jane’s. (Queer how much Jane and Shirley were alike fundamentally.) “Write to Ted and we’ll have one ‘whale’ of a time at the dance.”

“But I haven’t decided to go?”

“Oh, yes, you have, Kitten.  Wait until you see the old fairy godmother unload her pumpkin.  Or did she carry the dress on a broomstick?  I forget the details.  At any rate, while I’m thinking of a way to appease the wrath of Jane’s father by not dishonoring his scholarship, it is the very least you can do to get ready for the dance.  I know where you can hire a love of a dress—­lots of girls do it—­” as Sally drew up a little, “and it only costs five dollars.  Let me give you that for Christmas.  Write your letter, or shall I do it?  Bamboozle Ted until he won’t even guess our real meaning, but insist we are his cousins, with first names only.”

“But he would have to introduce us to his boy friends?” objected Sally.

“Well, that’s all right.  He can do that and we’ll just tell him we are playing a joke.  College boys adore jokes, don’t they?”

“Pretty much of a muddle, but I’ll try it,” assented Sally finally.  “And I suppose I could spare that five dollars.”