Connie was lying flat on her back near the register. The twins were
sitting on the floor near her, hearing each other conjugate Latin
verbs. And Prudence, with her darning basket, was earnestly trying to
solve a domestic problem,--how to get three pairs of wearable stockings
out of eleven hosiery remnants. So Fairy found them as she came in,
radiant and glowing.

"Glorious day," she said, glancing impartially at her sisters. "Just
glorious! Why are you all hugging the register, may I ask? It is
perfect weather. Connie, you should be out-of-doors this minute, by
all means. Twins, aren't you grown-up enough to sit on chairs, or
won't your footies reach the floor?--Babbie, Eugene Babler, you know,
is coming to spend the evening, Prudence."

"What is going on to-night?" queried Prudence.

"Nothing is going on. That's why he is coming. It's too cold to
meander around outdoors these nights, and so we shall have to amuse
ourselves inside as best we can."

The whole family came to attention at this.

"Oh, goody!" cried Connie. "Let's make taffy, shall we, Fairy?"

"Certainly not. This isn't a children's party. You'll go to bed at
eight o'clock as usual, Connie mine.--Now, we must have something to
eat. The question is, What shall it be?"

"Yes," agreed Carol with enthusiasm,--Carol was always enthusiastic on