"To-morrow's Sunday, Les; the stores aren't open. Use your bean a little, child."
"Sunday!"
Leslie's beautiful face drew itself into a snarl of impatience, the first, really, that Julia Cloud had seen.
"Oh, darn!" said Leslie's pretty lips. "Isn't that too horrid? I forgot all about it. I wonder what they have to have Sunday for, anyway. It's just a dull old bore!"
"O Leslie, darling!" said Julia Cloud, aghast, something in her heart growing suddenly heavy and sinking her down, down, so that she felt as if she could hardly hold her head up another minute.
"Well, Cloudy, dear, don't you think it's a bore yourself, truly? Come, now, own up. And I'm sure I don't see what's the use of it, do you? One can't do a thing that's nice. But I'll tell you what we can do!" her eyes growing bright with eagerness again. "We'll measure and cut all the curtains, and turn the hems up. And, Allison, you can put up the fixtures. If only the machine could have been sent up to-day, we could have had the curtains all done, couldn't we, Cloudy?"
But Julia Cloud's lips were white and trembling, and her sweet eyes had suddenly gone dark with trouble and apprehension.
"O Leslie, darling child!" she gasped again. "You don't mean you would work on the Sabbath day!"
"Why, why not, Cloudy, dear? Is there anything wrong about that?"