knew all the favorites of everybody. While she was singing "Oh, that we
two were Maying," at the request of Miss Campbell, Nancy, seated on the
couch beside Billie, near the door, whispered into her friend's ear:

"I left my handkerchief in the library," and slipped into the hall.
Hardly a moment later Billie, glancing through the door, saw Nancy in
the distance, beckoning violently. She rose and followed, much against
her will, thinking perhaps Nancy wished to bestow a confidence which
might just as well be kept until later.

"What on earth do you want?" she asked, with the irritability intimate
friends use toward each other without meaning really to be cross.

"The queerest thing has happened. The library is perfectly black dark."

"I don't think there is anything specially remarkable about that. The
fire had burned low before we left and I suppose one of the maids put out
the lamps. The Japs are nothing if not economical."

"They are nothing if not polite, too," argued Nancy. "And I am sure they
wouldn't put out the lights before the company left. Besides, they are
all listening to Elinor sing."

"Well, the lights are out and I don't see that it matters much,
Nancy-Bell. Let's go back and hear the rest of the song."

"Won't you come with me first to get my handkerchief?" pleaded Nancy. "I
know exactly where I left it, and I am afraid to go alone, if you want to
know the real truth."