"Barbara! what does this mean? It's nine o'clock! Are you asleep?"
Barbara _was_ asleep, but she awoke at her sister's call and drew her watch
from beneath the pillow.
"It is," she cried, "it's nine o'clock! What shall I do? There's a
rehearsal of the Historical Tableaux at ten, and I have to make three wigs
before I go."
"But even that isn't as important as my engagement," wailed Elizabeth, who
was splashing her face with water. "I have to be at the Authors' Club at
nine-thirty, to prepare the room for the reception at eleven, and nothing
can be done until I get there. And I must do several errands on my way
there. Oh, it _can't_ be nine o'clock. Perhaps my watch stopped at nine
last evening. No--it's going. Oh, how unfortunate I am. Mother, mother,"
she called.
But Mrs. Fleming was already up, and came through the hall with a scared
face.
"Girls," she said, "it's after nine o'clock, and Tom has to go away on the
9:45 train. We have overslept ourselves."
"I should think we had," began Elizabeth, but Mrs. Fleming had already gone
to her son's room.
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