The lachrymose Sara presently joined us and we discovered the cause of her tears to be the doleful fact that her mother had forbidden her to go to the magic lantern show that night.  We all showed the sympathy we felt.

“She said yesterday you could go,” said the Story Girl indignantly.  “Why has she changed her mind?”

“Because of the measles in Markdale,” sobbed Sara.  “She says Markdale is full of them, and there’ll be sure to be some of the Markdale people at the show.  So I’m not to go.  And I’ve never seen a magic lantern—­I’ve never seen anything.”

“I don’t believe there’s any danger of catching measles,” said Felicity.  “If there was we wouldn’t be allowed to go.”

“I wish I could get the measles,” said Sara defiantly.  “Maybe I’d be of some importance to ma then.”

“Suppose Cecily goes down with you and coaxes your mother,” suggested the Story Girl.  “Perhaps she’d let you go then.  She likes Cecily.  She doesn’t like either Felicity or me, so it would only make matters worse for us to try.”

“Ma’s gone to town—­pa and her went this afternoon—­and they’re not coming back till to-morrow.  There’s nobody home but Judy Pineau and me.”

“Then,” said the Story Girl, “why don’t you just go to the show anyhow?  Your mother won’t ever know, if you coax Judy to hold her tongue.”

“Oh, but that’s wrong,” said Felicity.  “You shouldn’t put Sara up to disobeying her mother.”

Now, Felicity for once was undoubtedly right.  The Story Girl’s suggestion was wrong; and if it had been Cecily who protested, the Story Girl would probably have listened to her, and proceeded no further in the matter.  But Felicity was one of those unfortunate people whose protests against wrong-doing serve only to drive the wrong-doer further on her sinful way.

The Story Girl resented Felicity’s superior tone, and proceeded to tempt Sara in right good earnest.  The rest of us held our tongues.  It was, we told ourselves, Sara’s own lookout.

“I have a good mind to do it,” said Sara. “but I can’t get my good clothes; they’re in the spare room, and ma locked the door, for fear somebody would get at the fruit cake.  I haven’t a single thing to wear, except my school gingham.”

“Well, that’s new and pretty,” said the Story Girl.  “We’ll lend you some things.  You can have my lace collar.  That’ll make the gingham quite elegant.  And Cecily will lend you her second best hat.”

“But I’ve no shoes or stockings.  They’re locked up too.”

“You can have a pair of mine,” said Felicity, who probably thought that since Sara was certain to yield to temptation, she might as well be garbed decently for her transgression.

Sara did yield.  When the Story Girl’s voice entreated it was not easy to resist its temptation, even if you wanted to.  That evening, when we started for the schoolhouse, Sara Ray was among us, decked out in borrowed plumes.