bread box by way of emphasis, as Amy and Grace came upon the scene. "I
don't dare to let myself think," she repeated.

"That's right, dear, I wouldn't either," approved Grace, patting her
encouragingly on the back as she passed on her way to the pantry. "You
want to get your mind used to it by degrees, otherwise the shock might be
too great. What's that, Betty--the sugar? Surely. Anything to be
agreeable!" The last hamper had just been done up, filled to the brim
with good things, when the boys arrived.

"Heavens, I'm a fright," cried Grace, viewing herself in the kitchen
mirror--a mirror, by the way, which brought out all a person's bad points
with Puritan honesty.

"Go in and keep the boys quiet, Amy, that's a dear," she begged, then,
seeing refusal in Amy's eyes, added cajolingly: "You always look as if you
came out of a bandbox yourself, you know. Please, dear--"

But Amy was already half way up the backstairs and paused to make a face
at her.

"Taffy!" she cried succinctly.

Five minutes later the three girls, in various attitudes of impatience,
were waiting for Grace while she still primped before the mirror.

"Just one minute more I give you," stated Mollie, regarding her wrist
watch frowningly.

"Oh, Mollie, if you only wouldn't talk so much," sighed Grace, turning