Greenleaf's voice tremble.
"The invitation, and the trousseau, and the presents, and
everything. Think of the scandal, dear. We couldn't. Don't you see,
dear, we can't back out, now?"
"O-o-oh."
"I almost wish--but don't you see--?"
"Oh, I can't stand it another hour!"
"You're excited, dear," soothingly. "You'd better go rest a while.
I'll have a good talk with Porter. And you go upstairs and lie down.
The Carrolls' dinner--"
"Oh, dinners, luncheons, clothes. I--"
The despairing sound of Miss Princess's cry, and the throbbing
realization that these were calamities she must not overhear, stung
Missy to renewed reconnoitering. Tiptoeing over to the window, she
fumbled at the fastening of the screen, swung it outward, and,
contemplating a jump to the sward below, thrust one foot over the
sill.
"Hello, there! What are you up to?"
On the side porch, not twenty feet away, Mr. Hackett was regarding
her with amazed and hostile eyes. Missy's heart thumped against her
ribs. Her consternation was not lessened when, tossing away his
cigarette with a vindictive gesture, he added: "Stay where you are!"
Missy slackened her hold and crouched back like a hunted criminal.
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