matter of all kinds. There's always one page for farmers' wives, with
recipes and hints for home dressmakers. Last winter I read about giving a
luncheon, and it sounded so pretty that I cut it out, though I never
expected to use it. Right in the middle of it was one course like these
fortunes, only they were to be put into stuffed peppers, instead of
stuffing, and when the guests took the covers off their peppers, there
they would find their fortunes."

"But Miss Carlson," began Beatrice, impatiently, "don't you see that the
whole point--"

"I like this way just as well," broke in Betty Wales. "What you really
care about is the fortune, and it doesn't matter whether it's in a pepper
or under your plate."

"Not a bit," agreed Eleanor, crumpling up her fortune nervously.

"And now," said Dora, "we'll all read them out loud and see how they fit.
I put them around without looking at them, and I didn't know where any of
you were going to sit."

"I guess mine fits pretty well," said the giggling cousin, whose fortune
had a man in it.

"Then why don't you begin?" suggested Betty, and the cousin began with
avidity. Dora had absolutely no literary ability; the spontaneous gaiety
that bubbled up in all that she said and did was entirely lacking in the
stiff, sentimental little character-sketch, but it pleased its reader,
and Betty and Eleanor joined in declaring it very interesting.