"Yes." Dick had taken a surreptitious glance at his sister, and his
burden of self-reproach had at once grown heavier. "It’s awful."
Peggy’s thoughts flew to her mother. Or perhaps Dorothy had met with an
accident. She was such a flyaway. Or could it be that Alice-- She
dropped into a chair. "Tell me, Dick," she begged, her lips very white.
"I--I hate to so I can’t." Shame made Dick’s voice tragic.
Peggy’s fingers gripped the sides of her chair. Whatever had happened
she must control herself. Like one in a dream she heard Dick
floundering on.
"Maybe something will happen yet, so--so it won’t be so bad." Dick was
thinking hopefully that perhaps one of his invited guests would find
himself unable to accept.
"Go on," gasped Peggy. But her appearance, instead of encouraging Dick
to confession, made it seem impossible.
"I--I guess I’ll wait," he choked. "Maybe you’ll feel better before
supper."
Peggy’s strength returned with miraculous suddenness. She pounced upon
her brother as he was about to escape. "Tell me now, Dick. I--I can
bear it."
"I--" Dick swallowed. "I asked Skits to supper."
Peggy waited stupidly.
"And Tom, too. I wanted to show ’em what a good cook you were."