"Evelyn doesn't go until next Tuesday, and this is only Thursday,"
Charlotte answered, promptly.
"Five days isn't much difference," urged Lucy mournfully. "And when
Evelyn's going right over the same road almost to our home, I should
think she'd like to go when we do, if it did cut off a little. She's
been here all winter."
"So have you, Lu, and you don't want to go," Charlotte reminded her.
She did not say that nobody could bear to think of Evelyn's departure
any sooner than was absolutely necessary, for it was not possible
honestly to say the same about Lucy. But when they reached the house,
and Charlotte had run up to her room to exchange her dress for a working
frock, Evelyn came to her and softly closed the door. Evelyn had
persuaded herself that she ought to accompany the others.
"It isn't as if Lucy were a different sort of girl," she argued--against
her own wishes, for she longed to stay more than she dared to own. "But
nobody knows how she might behave--if anybody tried to get to know
her--somebody she oughtn't to know. And besides, she's afraid. It really
doesn't matter.
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