Vainly trying to tuck her
unlucky foot under her chair, she blurted out a blunt statement.
"I have come to athk a favour of you, Irene."
There--lisping! Oh, she had been prepared for humiliation but not to
this extent! Really, there were limits!
"Yes?" said Irene in a cool, questioning tone, lifting her
shallowly-set, insolent eyes to Rilla's crimson face for a moment and
then dropping them again as if she could not tear them from their
fascinated gaze at the shabby boot and the gallant shoe.
Rilla gathered herself together. She would not lisp--she would be calm
and composed.
"Mrs. Channing cannot come because her son is ill in Kingsport, and I
have come on behalf of the committee to ask you if you will be so kind
as to sing for us in her place." Rilla enunciated every word so
precisely and carefully that she seemed to be reciting a lesson.
"It's something of a fiddler's invitation, isn't it?" said Irene, with
one of her disagreeable smiles.
"Olive Kirk asked you to help when we first thought of the concert and
you refused," said Rilla.
"Why, I could hardly help--then--could I?" asked Irene plaintively.
"After you ordered me never to speak to you again? It would have been
very awkward for us both, don't you think?"
Now for the humble pie.
"I want to apologize to you for saying that, Irene." said Rilla
steadily. "I should not have said it and I have been very sorry ever
since.
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