signals, but we believe they accidentally hit upon the knowledge. There is
no use in crying over spilt milk. We shall have to change all our signals
and take care that it doesn't happen again. And now let's talk of
something more agreeable, for basketball is a sore subject with me in more
than one sense." The talk drifted into other channels much to Anne's
relief.

"I have an idea!" exclaimed Hippy.

"Impossible," said Reddy. "No one would ever accuse you of such a thing."

"Be silent, fellow," commanded Hippy. "I will not brook such idle
babbling." He strutted up and down the room, his chest inflated and one
hand over his heart, presenting such a ridiculous figure that he raised a
general laugh.

"Speak on, fat one. I promise not to make any more remarks," said Reddy.

"I propose," said Hippy, pausing in his march, "that we give an impromptu
vaudeville show for the benefit of Miss Grace Harlowe, once an active
member of this happy band, but now laid on the shelf--couch, I mean--for
repairs."

"Done," was the unanimous reply.

"Now," continued Hippy, "get cozy, and the show will begin. Miss Nora
O'Malley will open the show by singing 'Peggy Brady,' as only an Irish
colleen of her pretensions can."

Nora rose, looked toward Jessica, who went at once to the piano to