Her reckless companions had dared her to do this,
and she felt what she called "her honor" at stake. Nancy Banister had
declined her invitation with decision; Constance Field had withered
her with a look. Now she must secure Maggie.
"I wish you'd come," she said, following Maggie and Prissie to the
door of the theater. "It will be an awful disappointment if you don't!
We all reckoned on having you."
"What do you mean, Rose?"
"We thought you wouldn't be above a bit of fun. You never used to be,
you know. You never used to be strict and proper and over-righteous,
used you?"
Priscilla was startled to see the queer change these few words made on
Maggie. Her cheeks lost their roses; her eyes grew big, pathetic,
miserable. Then a defiant expression filled them.
"If you put it in that way," she said, "I'll go and peep at the thing.
It isn't my taste nor my style, but goodness knows I'm no better than
the rest of you. Come, Prissie."
Maggie seized Priscilla's hand; her clasp was so tight as to be almost
painful. She hurried Prissie along so fast that Rose could scarcely
keep up with them.
They entered the hall. Maggie seized a hat for herself and another for
Prissie from the hat-stand; then the three girls crossed the garden to
Katharine Hall.
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