Calla nodded. "Can't you wangle it?" she urged. "I'd give everything I possess. But I promised _faithfully_ to go to tea. I shall give frightful offence if I scoot off to the theatre instead. In fact, it can't be done." "N-n-o, I suppose not," admitted Calla regretfully. "I'm sorry though." "You can't be sorrier than I am," sighed Lesbia, going upstairs to her form room. At eleven o'clock, as she was eating her lunch in the gymnasium Marion rushed up to her. "Oh, Lesbia," she said excitedly, "should you mind very much coming to tea the week after instead of next Saturday? Would it make any difference to you?" "Not a scrap," answered Lesbia, clutching at the opportunity. "It would suit me quite as well if it suits you. Shall we arrange it that way, then?" "Yes, please, if you really don't mind. Thanks ever so much!" And Marion fled away without further explanation. Lesbia congratulated herself upon having got out of her engagement so easily. She would be able now to accept Calla's invitation and go to _The Merchant of Venice_. The thought of it almost set her dancing. She went in search of Calla at once, but could not find her before the bell rang for botany class. As soon as school was over she took her aside and broached the delightful subject. Calla's face fell. "Oh, Lesbia, I'm so sorry!" she explained. "You said you couldn't come, and I've asked Marion now." "Marion?" "Yes!" "Why, it was Marion who'd asked me to tea on Saturday!" "Oh, was it? You never told me that. How was I to know?" Lesbia sat down on her boot-locker and relieved her feelings by giving a very plain and unflattering opinion of her chum's conduct. "I stuck to _my_ part of the bargain," she wound up wrathfully. "But you didn't. You told her another week would do quite as well." "Because I thought I was going to the theatre. You'd asked me." "Well, Marion didn't know that. It's all a mix up. What am I to do? Tell her about it?" "No, if she's accepted she'd better go." "I'm most dreadfully sorry, Lesbia! I wish we'd another ticket." "Oh, it can't be helped now!" and Lesbia rather ungraciously wrenched her arm from Calla's apologetic grasp, banged on her hat anyhow, and fled from the cloakroom, feeling about the crossest girl in Kingfield. "It's like my luck," she said to herself bitterly. To try and take some of the sting out of her disappointment she asked leave to go after school to Pilgrims' Inn Chambers, to return a book which Miss Joyce had lent her. She found her friend looking quite _en fête_, in a most artistic dress, with fresh flowers in the studio, and elaborate cakes set forth on the tea table. "I won't come in," said Lesbia, catching a vision of these splendours through the open door, and concluding visitors were expected. "I've only brought back your book, that's all."