with an air of resignation from the mirror. "As soon as you begin to talk
everything goes wrong. My gloves walk under the bed, and my hair stands on
end--"

"Goodness," cried Mollie, looking injured, "anybody'd think I was a ghost.
I'll stand for being called lots of things, but a phantom--Ouch! Now
what's the idea?" For Grace's thumb and forefinger had come together in
the fleshy part of her arm.

"I was just trying to reassure you," explained Grace innocently, as Mollie
stared indignantly. "There's nothing the least bit ethereal--"

But Mollie waited to hear no more, and sped down the stairs after Betty to
bounce unceremoniously in upon the boys.

"Beware!" she cried. "A lunatic is about to descend upon us!"

"I should say one had already," grinned Allen, at which Mollie
surrendered.

"Everybody's against me," she sighed. "When one whom I have always called
my friend, turns agin me--Never mind," she added diplomatically, "I made
the layer cake, Allen Washburn--"

"Oh, Mollie, let me carry your pocketbook," begged Allen in alarm.

"How do I know you're honest?" she retorted with a twinkle, and peace was
once more restored.

The young folks paired off as usual, and Allen drew Betty a little behind