Later, Cynthia put away her work, yawned, and rose from the table. She was beginning to feel just a trifle sorry that she had been so short with her beloved friend. "But Joyce was simply impossible, to-night!" she mused. "I never knew her to be quite so foolish. Hope she isn't really offended. But she'll have forgotten all about it by to-morrow morning.... I wonder where to-day's paper is? Joyce was reading it--or pretending to! I want to see the weather report for to-morrow. I hope it's going to be fair.... Pshaw! I can't find it. She must have gathered it up with her things and taken it with her. That was mighty careless--but just like Joyce! I'm going to bed!" CHAPTER XIII THE GREAT ILLUMINATION The next morning the two girls met, as though absolutely nothing unpleasant had happened. These little differences were, as a fact, of frequent occurrence, and neither of them ever cherished the least grudge toward the other when they were over. Not a word was said in reference to it by either, but Cynthia noticed Joyce looking at her rather curiously several times. Finally she asked: "What are you staring at me so for, Joyce?" "Oh, nothing! I wasn't staring," Joyce replied, and began to talk of something else. "By the way, Cyn, why wouldn't it be a good idea to wait till next week before we have our illumination? Perhaps we could get more candles by that time, too. I vote for next Saturday instead of to-day." "I can't see why you want to wait," replied Cynthia. "To-day is just as good a time as any. In fact, I think it's better. Something might happen that would entirely prevent it next week. No, let's have it to-day. My heart is set on it." "Very well then," assented Joyce. "But, do you know, I believe, if this time is a success, we might have it again next Saturday, too." "Well, you can have it if you like, and if you can raise the money for candles," laughed Cynthia; "but you mustn't depend on me. I'll be 'cleaned out' by that time!" That morning they carefully dusted the drawing-room and library of the Boarded-up House. "We'll put the candles in the drawing-room, in the big candelabrum. That will take about forty--and we'll have enough for the library too," said Cynthia, planning the campaign. "And the rest of the candles we'll put in the 'locked-up room.' Let's go right up there now and dust it!" "Oh, what do you want to light _that_ room for!" cried Joyce. "Don't let's go in there. It makes me blue--even to think of it!" But Cynthia was obdurate. "I want it lit up!" she announced. "If you don't feel like going up, I'll go myself. I don't mind. But I want candles there!" "Oh, if you insist, of course I'll go! But really, Cynthia, I don't quite understand you to-day. You want to do such queer things!" "I don't see anything _queer_ about that!" retorted Cynthia, blushing hotly. "It just seemed--somehow--appropriate!"