told Faith there would be a taffy-pull in the kitchen for those who didn’t dance and you should have seen the face she made. She and Jem will sit out on the rocks most of the evening, I suppose. Did you know that we are all to walk down as far as that little creek below the old House of Dreams and then sail to the lighthouse? Won't it just be absolutely divine?”
“When I was fifteen I talked in italics and superlatives too,” said Miss Oliver sarcastically, “I think the party promises to be pleasant for young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother dancing with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once out of charity. There will be nobody for me even to talk to. So you can’t expect me to look forward to it with your touching young rapture.”
“Didn’t you have a good time at your first party, though, Miss Oliver?”
“No. I had a hateful time. I was shabby and homely and nobody asked me to dance except one boy, homelier and shabbier than myself. He was so awkward I hated him—and even he didn’t ask me again. I had no real girlhood, Rilla. It’s a sad loss. That’s why I want you to have a splendid, happy girlhood. And I hope your first party will be one you'll remember all your life with pleasure.”
“I dreamed last night I was at the dance and right in the middle of things I discovered I was dressed in my kimono and bedroom shoes,” sighed Rilla. “I woke up with a gasp of horror.”
“Speaking of dreams—I had an odd one,” said Miss Oliver absently. “It was one of those vivid dreams I sometimes have—they are not the vague
