“Who invites you, dear?” “Why, Jack, of course,—dear old cousin Jack. Nobody else ever thinks of me, or cares whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. Isn’t he kind? Mayn’t I go? and, O Pris, what _shall_ I wear?” Kitty paused suddenly, as if the last all-important question had a solemnizing effect upon both mind and body. “Why, your white muslin, silk sacque, and new hat, of course,” began Pris with an air of surprise. But Kitty broke in impetuously,— “I’ll never wear that old muslin again; it’s full of darns, up to my knees, and all out of fashion. So is my sacque; and as for my hat, though it does well enough here, it would be absurd for Class Day.” “You don’t expect an entirely new suit for this occasion,—do you?” asked Pris, anxiously. “Yes, I do, and I’ll tell you how I mean to get it. I’ve planned everything; for, though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by thinking how I could manage if I _did_ get invited.” “Let us hear.” And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation. “First, my dress,” began Kitty, perching herself on the arm of the sofa, and entering into the subject with enthusiasm. “I’ve got the ten dollars grandpa sent me, and with eight of it I’m going to buy Lizzie King’s organdie muslin. She got it in Paris; but her aunt providentially—no, unfortunately—died; so she can’t wear it, and wants to get rid of it. She is bigger than I am, you know; so there is enough for a little mantle or sacque, for it isn’t made up. The skirt is cut off and gored, with a splendid train—” “My dear, you don’t mean you are going to wear one of those absurd, new-fashioned dresses?” exclaimed Pris, lifting hands and eyes. “I do! Nothing would induce me to go to Class Day without a train. It’s been the desire of my heart to have one, and now I _will_, if I never have another gown to my back!” returned Kitty, with immense decision. Pris shook her head, and said, “Go on!” as if prepared for any extravagance after that. “We can make it ourselves,” continued Kitty, “and trim it with the same. It’s white with blue stripes and daisies in the stripes; the loveliest thing you ever saw, and can’t be got here. So simple, yet distingué, I know you’ll like it. Next, my bonnet,”—here the solemnity of Kitty’s face and manner was charming to behold. “I shall make it out of one of my new illusion undersleeves. I’ve never worn them; and the puffed part will be a plenty for a little fly-away bonnet of the latest style. I’ve got blue ribbons to tie it with, and have only to look up some daisies for the inside. With my extra two dollars I shall buy my gloves, and pay my fares,—and there I am, all complete.”