to bestow themselves in the unaccustomed limitations of the Lane
apartment without doing themselves physical injury. The Chases evidently
felt that the surest way to show their appreciation of the hospitality
offered them was to be uninterruptedly mirthful at its character.

"For goodness' sake, Sally," cried Mrs. Chase, with a little shriek,
"you're not going to put us both in here! Neil, don't you dare to come in
until I get out--there isn't room. Where shall I hang my coat? Oh, is
there a closet behind that curtain? Six hooks! Neil, you can't have but
one of them--I want the rest. Sally, how did you ever come to it, after
that great roomy old house of yours? I should suffocate in a week! It's
lucky we're going on to-morrow. I couldn't change my gowns in here."

"I thought you were an experienced traveller," retorted Sally, lightly
enough. She had known quite what to expect from Dorothy; it did not
disturb her seriously. "Good travellers can tuck themselves away
anywhere. Besides, this room is palatial in comparison with Uncle
Timothy's. There's not room for a dressing-table in his. You should be
thankful that you have one, and a mirror. The mirror's the one real
essential for Dorothy Eustis Chase. I made sure you had that."

"It's just like you not to own up that you're cramped." Dorothy was
taking full advantage of the mirror pointed out. Her elaborately waved
chestnut locks received her full attention for a space, and Sally slipped
away to the kitchen.

They sat down presently to something which was not a dinner, and proved
decidedly more than a lunch. The guests ate ravenously, but did not
forget to take note of their surroundings. Neil's back was too close to
the wall for Sally to squeeze by him when she rose to change the plates,