They had forgotten their promise.
"But it is Eugenia's fault every bit as much as it is mine," she thought, looking across the semicircle, where Eugenia sat serenely unconscious of forgotten promises.

"She's just as much to blame as I am.
Oh, well, I'll mail it first thing in the morning." But her conscience kept troubling her.

"Your godmother asked if she could trust you, and she said it was important.

You know you promised.
There's time yet to slip away and post that letter before the mail train goes by." But Betty would not listen to her conscience.

She resolutely turned her attention to the charades, until all at once she seemed to hear Miss Allison's voice saying, "I like this little hand.