That it was the only thing in the whole wide world worth while.
I can remember now, as if it were yesterday, the way I debated in my mind as to whether I should ask Father, Mother, or both together; and if I should let it be seen how greatly I desired to go, and how much it meant to me; or if I should just mention it as in passing, and take their permission practically for granted.
I chose the latter course, and I took a time when they were both together.

At the breakfast-table I mentioned casually that the school was to have a sleigh-ride and supper the next Friday afternoon and evening, and that Paul Mayhew had asked me to go with him, I said I hoped it would be a pleasant night, but that I should wear my sweater under my coat, anyway, and I'd wear my leggings, too, if they thought it necessary.
(Sweater and leggings! Two of Mother's hobbies.

Artful child!) But if I thought that a sweater and a pair of leggings could muffle their ears as to what had gone before, I soon found my mistake.
"A sleigh-ride, supper, and not come home until evening ?" cried Mother.

"And with whom, did you say ?" "Paul Mayhew," I answered.

I still tried to speak casually; at the same time I tried to indicate by voice and manner something of the great honor that had been bestowed upon their daughter.
Father was impressed--plainly impressed; but not at all in the way I had hoped he would be.