butter as she stared at the little drawing. She felt just like a work-
girl.

"Laura, Laura, where are you? Telephone, Laura!" a voice cried from the
house.

"Coming!" Away she skimmed, over the lawn, up the path, up the steps,
across the veranda, and into the porch. In the hall her father and Laurie
were brushing their hats ready to go to the office.

"I say, Laura," said Laurie very fast, "you might just give a squiz at my
coat before this afternoon. See if it wants pressing."

"I will," said she. Suddenly she couldn't stop herself. She ran at Laurie
and gave him a small, quick squeeze. "Oh, I do love parties, don't you?"
gasped Laura.

"Ra-ther," said Laurie's warm, boyish voice, and he squeezed his sister
too, and gave her a gentle push. "Dash off to the telephone, old girl."

The telephone. "Yes, yes; oh yes. Kitty? Good morning, dear. Come to
lunch? Do, dear. Delighted of course. It will only be a very scratch
meal--just the sandwich crusts and broken meringue-shells and what's left
over. Yes, isn't it a perfect morning? Your white? Oh, I certainly
should. One moment--hold the line. Mother's calling." And Laura sat
back. "What, mother? Can't hear."

Mrs. Sheridan's voice floated down the stairs. "Tell her to wear that
sweet hat she had on last Sunday."