knew what that was--hysteria. She always had attacks like that
when things went wrong. I was quite despairing by that time; I
hoped they would all hear her and come downstairs and take her up
and put her to bed like a Christian, so she could giggle her soul
out. But after a bit she quieted down and began to cry softly,
and I knew the worst was over. I gave her a shake, and she was so
angry that she got over it altogether.

"Kit, you are horrid," she choked. "Don't you see what a position
I am in? I am not going upstairs to face Anne and the rest of
them. You can just put me in the coal cellar."

"Isn't there a window you could get through?" I asked
desperately. "Locking the door doesn't shut up a whole house."

Bella's courage revived at that, and she said yes, there were
windows, plenty of them, only she didn't see how she could get
out. And I said she would HAVE to get out, because I was playing
Bella in the performance, and I didn't care to have an
understudy. Then the situation dawned on her, and she sat down
and laughed herself weak in the knees. Of course she wanted to
stay, then, and see the fun out. But I was firm; she would have
to go, and I told her so. Things were complicated enough without
her.

Well, we looked funny, no doubt, Bella in a Russian pony
automobile coat over the black satin she had worn at the
Clevelands' dinner, and I in cream lace, the skirt gathered up
from the kitchen floor, with Bella's ermine pelerine around my
bare shoulders, and dishes and overturned chairs everywhere.