shirtwaist and white duck skirt and white canvas oxfords. Presently
Pete suggested that Polly go into the parlour with him to look at
some college snapshots. Missy wondered why he didn't bring them out
to the porch where it was cooler, but she was too polite to ask.

They stayed in there a long time--what were they doing? For long
spaces she couldn't even hear their voices. Grandma chattered away
with her usual vivacity; presently she suggested that they leave off
crocheting and work on paper-flowers a while. What a delight! Missy
was just learning the intricacies of peonies, and adored to squeeze
the rosy tissue-paper over the head of a hat-pin and observe the
amazing result.

"Run up to my room, dear," said grandma. "You'll find the box on the
closet shelf."

Missy knew the "paper-flower box." It was a big hat-box,
appropriately covered with pink-posied paper--a quaintly beautiful
box.

In the house, passing the parlour door, she tip-toed, scarcely
knowing why. There was now utter silence in the parlour--why were
they so still? Perhaps they had gone out somewhere. Without any
definite plan, but still tip-toeing in the manner she and grandma
had approached to overhear the law-suit, she moved toward the
partly-closed door. Through the crevice they were out of vision, but
she could hear a subdued murmur--they were in there after all!
Missy, too interested to be really conscious of her act, strained
her ears.