Mrs. Evans confided her plans for a Christmas week party to Gladys the
day following the snow frolic, and Gladys was delighted with the idea.
She dearly loved to entertain her friends. The frock was ordered from
New York and Mrs. Evans and Gladys spent long hours working out the
details of the affair. Rumors of the party and the dress Gladys was to
have leaked out to the Winnebagos and from them to the whole class.
Every one was on tiptoe to find out who would be invited. Mrs. Davis and
Mrs. Jones, hearing the talk about the coming function, began to wonder
if they were on the right track after all in regard to the Evans
fortune. Two weeks before Christmas the invitations came out.
Twenty-five girls and twenty-five boys, mostly from the high school
class, were asked. What a flutter of satisfaction there was among those
who had been invited, and what a disappointment among those who had not
been, and what consultations about dresses among the favored ones!

This question was an acute one with Migwan. She had not had a new party
dress for several years, and in the present state of their finances she
could not get one now. She looked at the old one, faded and spotted, and
shook her head despairingly. "I foresee where Miss Migwan develops a
sudden illness on the night of the party," she said with tight lips,
"unless I hear from my story in time." As if in answer to her thoughts
the story came back the very next day. There was no letter from the
editor concerning the merits or faults of the piece, only a printed
rejection slip, but that stated that only typewritten manuscripts would
be considered. Migwan's air castle tumbled about her ears. She had no
typewriter and knew no one who had. Her experience did not include a
knowledge of public stenographers, and even if she had thought of that
way out the expense would have prevented her from having her story
copied. Her dream of fame and wealth was short-lived, and the world was