are to be thrown out of our jobs, are we?"

Gwendolyn looked mild surprise. "But you don't _like_ to be here," she
reminded. "And you and Thomas wouldn't have to work any more; you could
just play all the time." She smiled up at them encouragingly.

Thomas eyed Jane. "If we ain't careful," he warned in a low voice, "and
let a certain party talk too much at headquarters--"

The other nodded, comprehending "I'll look sharp," she promised. "Royle
will, too." Whereupon, with a forced change to gayety, and a toss of the
white card aside, she lifted the cover of the box and peeked in.

It was a merry-go-round, canopied in gay stripes, and built to
accommodate a party of twelve dolls. There were six deep seats, each
lined with ruby plush, for as many lady dolls: There were six prancing
Arab steeds--bay and chestnut and dappled gray--for an equal number of
men. A small handle turned to wind up the merry-go-round. Whereupon the
seats revolved gayly, the Arabs curvetted; and from the base of the
stout canopy pole there sounded a merry tune.

"Oh, darlin', what a grand thing!" cried Jane, lifting Gwendolyn to
stand on the rounding seat of a white-and-gold chair (a position at
other times strictly forbidden). "And what a pile of money it must've
cost! Why, it's as natural as the big one in the Park!"

The music and the horses appealed. Other considerations moved
temporarily into the background as Gwendolyn watched and listened.

Thomas broke the string of the smaller package. "This is the Madam's