Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 36, Number 45, 24 December 1910 — Page 2

I OUR. SHORT 6TOKT BAGB I

A MASTERLY METHOD.

(Copyright 190ft by BenJ. B. Hampton.'.

WHAT shall I give Cregory for Christmas?" (he said It was not the tort of remark to be greeted with protest and levity, but that was what it got. "Now see here, Lois," her mother said, "every year for the past twenty 1 have had to plan your Christmas present to vjregury. bver nine j were "A year old," interrupted Lois ; "but really, mother, I do feel anxious" Iter voice took on a private significance intended for ber mother's ear. "You see, mother," spoke, up Tom promptly, "we feel that we ought to do something special for Greg, considering ".Hit voice discounted Lois's for mysterious suggestion. . . . "You might send him a pot of glue, suggested Mollie. "Or a skewer," supplemented Tom. If he skewered it neatly and put a coat of varnish on, he might work it off on some near-sighted girl Poor old Creg. lie's to blamed careless?' 'Mother 1" protested Lois. Don't be impatient," said Tom. "I am returning immediately to the subject. What shall we give Gregory for Christmas? Now, there are three classes of Christmas presents: those you give to relatives with an eye to their being of use in the family; those you give to friends after going to a clairvoyant to find out how much they are likely to spend on you; and those you give" here his voice became heavy with tragic inference "to those who have been weighed in the balance and found wanting too much which brings us to our text: What shall we give (Gregory for Christmas?" Lois arose. Her very beautiful eyes were plaintively indignant "1 am going up to the library, mother, she said, got looking at Tom and Mollie. . "Aren't you going to ride with Mr. Warwick?" demanded Mollie. Lois shook her head gently and went out. "Now isn't that too ridiculous?' Molly appealed to the room. "Thinking of refusing a ride on that bay of Mr. Warwick's, just because it might make Mr. Cregory feel worse." "Perhaps we may as well not discuss the subject," suggested Mrs. Patterson. "You are not supposed to mow anything about it "1 wish somebody would offer him to me, said Mollie. Who Gregory?" No, Mr. Warwick's horse. But I tell yon. if 1 idid refute a man. I'd do it thoroughly. It it my pinion that Gregory keeps up this plaintiff nose simply fcceauia IwOii looks so conscious-siriciccn. xno, 1 m not voinv to helo you with the darning, mother. You You do CeruVt work so that she can. get off earlier. poil everybody. If you had brought Lois up properly. reached out and selected a blue silk sock from the basket "Look at this I" She held it alof to point an accusing finger at the size 'of the hole. - "It is very touching," began Tom hastily, "about Gregory. 1 drop in, when I can, to do my mite in the way off reformation, and on the last occasion I noticed he had taken down all of Lois's photographs. There was no Lois in evening dress smiling at me from the mantel, no Lois in street suit looking down jauntily from the oipe rack, no Loit in golf outfit, no , Loit in garden hat. no Lois with a lace mantilla strewn over her head, no Lois leaning on one elbow with downcast eyes, no Lois leaning on a property chair with upcast eyes, no Lois with any cast in her cyet at all. And in the midst of it sat Greg I" He reached out a long arm and laid a hand on his mother's work. "May I borrow that stocking to wipe my eyes?" he said. Mollie was cobbling the blue silk hole into a tort of rosette. "We ought to cheer Greg up," she said. "If he would stop acting like an undertaker, Lois would be nicer to Mr. Warwick, arid he might offer me a ride on the bay." "For sheer altruism, recommend me to Mollie," said Tom. "But it is true that, as a family, we owe it to Greg to give him a helping hand He has now mourned long enough. We ought to get him into shape before the holidays." "We could do a great deal before Christmas." said .Molly, "if we went at it systematically. We could 'take turns." "Ill start to-night, declared Tom valiantly. 1H go over with my mandolin " Mollie laid down the blue silk sock and looked across at her brother: "There won't be anything left for me to do," she said. "I don't tee what you've got against me and my 1 mandolin," observed Tom defensively. "Nothing against you."- separately, she returned. "Well, 1 have other methods. 1 m not confined to one. Ill get him started in the right direction to- . Bight and turn him over to you to-rrorrow." . vl would suggest, began'1 Mrs. Patterson quietly, bat Tom raised a protesting hand. "Now, mother, do not seek to discourage this strugring band of willing workers," he said. "Mollie and are going to be Little Sisters to the Discard. Don't you want to be a Little Siter. too?" "Thank said Mrs. Patterson. Gregory came out from the city that night, tired with the day's work. ' The house was lonesomely stilL He blundered through the dark hall and up the stairs. He closed the door of his room behind him, feeling pensively the bareness of it, and turned on the light On mantel .and bookcase and pipe rack and desk, wherever a picture of Lois had stood, and in a dozen -other place, were photographs photographs of Mollie : Mollie with curls and a scowl, Mollie in tintype groups. Mollie all but unrecognizable in awful freaks of photographic art. Mollie and Tom hand in hand with do-or-die expressions, Mollie in short dresses and in her first long one, Mollie, Mollie everywhere, and each one a more awful looking production than the last Gregory sat down and stared at them. Then he threw back his head and howled. Not since Lois had fearfullv refused him had he laughed like that He sobered down rather suddenly, with a feeling of inappropriateness. "First score to me, said Tom proudly, the next morning. "The housekeeper told me that Greg laughed out loud in his room last night" "But what did you do?" "That I shall not divulge until the cure is complete. It it your turn this morning." "I think 111 take him for a long walk." said Mollie after a moment of meditation. "Goodl" said Tom cordially. "Nothing better than walking in cases of this kind. 1 can almost see you on that bay." "There he IsP Mollie seized a jacket and pinned on a hat at she flew out of the door. "Come for a walk, Greg?" the called. Gregory had intended treating Mollie with something of hurt reserve, but her face was so warmly friendly that he forgot it- The. morning was perfect for walking, stirring the blood to energy, filling the Se with the reserved loveliness, of early December, ollie chatted tmceasmgly, and all her theme was of . the beauty of life and the duty of making the best of things. Very impersonal it was; the felt that the , was becoming exceedingly tactful. But it was con- - tinuoue. Gregory wondered at first Then suspicion grew Cpon him. He lapsed into indignant silence. Harder and harder Mollie tried. Gloomier and gloomier ; grew Gregory.

""Write It on your heart," quote Mollie bravely, with a glance of loving kindness that belied her growing rage, " 'that every day in the year is the best day. ' " Gregory appeared not to hear. He was slashing at the weeds with his stick like an ill-tempered hero in a "Duchess" novel. His eyes were on the ground, not on his cheering, inspiring companion. The bay horse was galloping hazily into the distance. "Greg," cried Mollie in exasperation, "won't you please be a little livelier ?" Mr. Campbell turned a somewhat irate countenance upon his guide and consoler. "I don't see anything in particular to be lively over," he said. "Well, it is everybody's duty to make the best of things." "Oh, d " said Gregory. Perhaps it was "duty" he started to say. Mollie did not think it was, and for the next fifteen minutes he found himself explaining to a very indignant young woman that she had misunderstood him. By that time they had reached the stile by the river, which was as far as they had planned to go, and Mollie turned promptly, without a word, and set out upon the homeward way. And now it was Gregory who talked steadily to a perfectly unresponsive companion. It would never do to have little Mollie seriously offended with him. Good little Mollie 1 She had alwavs looked upon him as a brother. Not that Mollie was to little, either. She was taller than Lois. His heart gave a pang at the thought of Lois, but only a short one. He was too busy propitiating her sister. "You're captain of the basketball team, are't you, Mollie?" he inquired.

'You can take Gregory to-day f she said."

"Yes." No word could have been briefer. "That's fine! They couldn't have a better one. You re an all-round kind of a girt. It was mighty nice of you to take pity on my lonesomeness and walk with me. It does a chap good to have a dear little girl like you sorry for him." Mollie turned an icy gaze upon him. "I wasn't sorry for you." she said. "I was trying to make you act as if you had a grain of sense, which is a good deal more than I shall undertake again. I am going to turn off here. Good morning I and an "ft . y?un figure in a carlet tarn and tweeter receded down a narrow bypath, while Gregory whistled softly to himself and proceeded homeward. "Quitter I" said Tom. It was appropos of Mollie's proposal that he undertake the reformation of Gregory unaided and alone. "I am not," said Mollie, "but I don't see why we should both give our time to him. Ill keep it up if you insist" "I do," said Tom; and so Gregory, who had watched with tome compunction on Monday for a chance to accost Mollie, was greatly surprised to see her smiling at him from the station platform when he got off the train on Tuesday. T thought you'd be on this train she explained brightly, so I stopped. I am going over to bowL Don't you want to go?" It was Gregory's favorite exercise. They had a beautiful time and walked home together in gay spirits. Mollie's evident forget fullness of their strained relations struck Gregory as very admirable. It shows an awfully sweet spirit by Jove!" he thought enthusiastically. "She is a mighty amiable little girl. And the next afternoon he watched until he saw his amiable little neighbor passing, and went out onto the porch. "A good day to bowl, Mollie " he called. "Splendid I" said Mollie. "Tom's going over; IH tell him to stop." Gregory slammed three doors on the way back to his room. By the time Tom called he had developed a sore throat which made bowling a menace to health. Tom, with angelic patience, spent the evening with him. .The following afternoon Mollie ran in to borrow a piece of his sister's music, and remained to play some arcompaniments. Gregory had a charming voice, and Mollie was a born accompanyist He got out a lot more music the next night and Tom came over and offered to play ft on his mandolin. Tom never hit the key except in moments of absent-mindedness. Gregory said he had given up singing. On Saturday, Mollie with the firelight flickering on ner,.frle town nd earnest young face, tat in the twilight of the Campbell library and talked softly of the Duty of Man. And the next day Tom. after a Sunday stroll with an absent-minded but docile companion, summed up the situation with pleasing pride. , ) re coming on wonderfully," he said, "wonderfully. My method it marvelously adapted to the case. Two weeks later Mollie burst into the sitting room, where Tom and the sofa made a little oasis in a desert of Sunday newspapers. "You can take Gregory to-day." she said. Torn looked up from the pink sheet his eyes still alight with the fact that somebody had scored two touchdowns. It's your day," he said. "I took him yesterday to oblige you. "I don't care. I cant get my presents done if I give all my time to Gregory." . "You aren't going to make presents on Sunday, I J10' , ,Tora clinched the pink sheet more firmly and looked his grieved reproach. "I'm going to give it up." said Mollie, with swift emphasis; "I've done enough." "WeB. I like to pot a thing through when I start ft with a superior air "and now that Gregory is turning out so cheerful. I certainly shall not give up. I could do it alone if it wasnl for my Greek. Your part has been very simple. I am sure. I have done all the planning and taken the brunt of the work. The slight assistance you have been able to render has enabled me to perfect my methods. When I get out my pamphlet on "First Aid to the Injured.' your name shall be mentioned." Mollie was not resenting

By Jeannette Cooper. anything he was saying. She was thinking her own thoughts, and her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes were blazing. "Well, I am going to give it up," she repeated "Think of the bay," said Tom. Mollie never heeded. "It is impossible to do anything for a person like Gregory," she went on. He wants the roost idiotic things. "What does he want? To act with Lois in the pantomime ?" "No," shortly. "What, then? To have you intercede with Lois? To have Warwick left out of the party? To " "No," burst out Mollie, her voice rising to a climax with the preposterousness of it, her face scarlet and exasperated. "He wants to marry me!" Tom dropped the pink sheet and sat up. His eyes were as saucers as he surveyed his angry sister. He gasped weakly, endeavoring to ask her to corroborate his impression of what she had said. Then he sank back upon the sofa and howled and roared and shouted until his voice died away from sheer exhaustion and only his legs waving feebly in the air testified to his enjoyment Mollie sat tensely and waited. "Wha what did you tell him?" he whispered at last "I told him I did it because you got me into it and I was sorry for Lois and! " "Did you tell him about the horse?" She nodded, and again Tom abandoned himself to his emotions. "I guess your name will have to go first on the pamphlet" he said. "And he asked me" Mollie's stern eyes were on her listener "if I put my photographs in his room" "I did it," said Tom; "that was my opening coup. I put the cross-eyed one on the mantel and the one

in pantalets on the pipe rack. I spent time and thought in collecting and arranging them. You need not blame me for the present dilemma. They ought to have acted as a preventative"; and the memory of them sent him back into convulsions. Mrs. Patterson opened the door and looked in. "What are you two doing?" she said. "Just having a little conversation," returned her son amiably. "It is connected with our mission. We are thinking strongly of disbanding." Festive with scarlet and green was the Patterson house on Christmas morning. The sun poured in at the windows of the dining room, where the family lingered, cheerfully busy. Lois was tying red ribbons around white tissue-paper packages and humming to herself. Mrs. Patterson was directing Tom as he sat upon a stepladder and painstakingly hung a holly wreath at every angle but the right one. Only Mollie stood idly looking out of the window. Mollie was getting rather into the habit of idly looking out of windows. Tom, from his lofty seat cast an interested eye down at her. "That will do, Tom,", said his mother, but Tom sat still" "We never decided what to give Gregory for Christmas, did we? he said solemnly. "I do hope the Ransoms will come to-night" said Mollie, with . feverish haste. "I do!" said Tom. "But as I was saying, we have not yet decided what to give Gregory for Christmas. It is the only cloud. I looked over the lists in "the morning papers they are always helpful; but there, was nothing there except What to Give Grandpa and 'Conceits for the Cook.'" He had one hand in his pocket at he descended from the ladder and joined Mollie at the window. 'When he strolled away again he had the pleased look of the skillful sleight-of-hand man. Lois had taken her packages into another room. Mrs. Patterson had gone to the kitchen. "Why! What" broke out Mollie. "What's up?" demanded Tom, roused from his appreciative and proprietary contemplation of his unconscious sister. "It's a horse 1 said Mollie. "And and Gregory!" "Right on timef" murmured Tom. Two steps took him to the side porch, where he indeed beheld a horse, a beautiful bay, bearing a lady's saddle and led by Mr. Campbell. Without ceremony Gregory dropped the bridle into Tom's hand and ran up the steps. Mollie heard the door open behind her, but she did not turn. It was quite half a minute before Gregory spoke. "Do you like it Mollie ?" he said. "Do I like it?" she cried. "Is it really for me, Greg?" She faced him with radiant eyes, that were, after alL uncommonly shy for Mollie's eyes. "I'm going out to see it" "Well, first. Mollie" Gregory spoke diffidently "there is something pinned to your blouse." Mollie flew to the mirror. Across the shoulders of her white dress stretched a broad red ribbon. On it in bold black lettersto Mack and bold that even the reversed reflection in the mirror was easy to read stood the inscription : GREGORY'S XMAS PRESENT As the red of the ribbon turned Mollie. "Tom did it," the faltered. "Yes," said Gregory, "but may I have it?" "You may have the ribbon." said Mollie.

THE RETROGRADER

By Marion Hill Copyright 1909, by Ben. IS. Hampton THE big, warm parlor was cosily dim except for the radiant circle cast by its one lamp. In the roseate center of the illumination, and not at all unaware of her decorative background, sat pretty Margaret Van Dyne in a mental state of accentuated pensiveness. Miss Van Dyne had an assured, fresh beauty which did not in the least depend upon the concession of a gown, though she had the gown, too, had it on; and it was beautiful. Also she was waiting for her sweetheart, Charles Lawlor, a nice chap and particularly well worth the waiting. But Miss Van Dyne's face harbored anything but that contentment which convention demands of the situation. For one thing, her waiting was devoid of waiting's most delicious flavor that flavor of anxiety which gives a gambling charm to the period and robs it of tedium. She was not a bit anxious. She knew he would come. He had to. They were newly betrothed so what else was possible for him or for her! Waiting with such dull surety is less entertaining than irritating, and Margaret painstakingly began to consider herself neglected and to get furious in proportion. She was not the kind of a girl who had ever been kept waiting for a minute, nor was she in the least the kind of a girl who would ever become used to it. She inclined to put the blame upon her tagged and ticketed condition. T wonder why in the world I ever became engaged!" she pondered, eyeing with cool dislike the solitaire ring - on her finger. The diamond glowing like the heart of love sent back a score o? fiery answering gleams. "No, he was not handsomer than a lot of other men not so very much anyhow. And I did not crave excitement Heaveft knows I didn't need it And I have plenty of diamonds ; it wasn't that Nor was it rainy weather. I simply had no excuse. Well, it has certainly turned out a mistake. Now that I am engaged, I do not seem to be as valuable as formerly. Not to anybody. Even the other men have dropped their adoring speechlessness and talk to me as condescendingly as if they were my uncles. The boys used to crawl around almost on their knees for a mere word. Now they chat with me casually when they please instead of when I allow. And he is worse than any of them." ' . , She heard a step in the corridor, and straightened expectantly, but shrunk listlessly when she realized it was Kitty, the maid. Kitty staggering under a heap of carriage wraps, came to a standstill in front of her young mistress, looking primly expectant. "Well! What?" demanded Miss Van Dyne, inconsequentially sharp. Whoever intrudes upon a grievance is never remote enough from the cause to escape a stinging. "I thought, Miss that you dined out," hesitated Kitty. Kitty was well worth her wages. It takes the cleverest kind of cleverness to know when to be supposititious instead of certain. "'Dined out' where?" demanded Miss Van Dyne, indifferently refusing to extricate her mind from the pleasing anguish of revery. "At Mrs. Brierly's, miss." The mere name of this honorable hostess seemed to whip an angry color into the face of the expected guest and to give edge to her tongue. "I was! but I'm not!" she cried fiercely. "Mrs. Brierly's!" she thought, as she watched the imperturable back of the retreating Kitty. "That is where I met him first. At a dinner, too. I never want to see the place again. I don't have to. There are enough other places! There are enough other men, too, men who would sufficiently prize an opportunity to keep their engagements with me. How late is he now?" " She flung a frowning inquiry at the mantel where an indiscreet little Dresden clock was exposing the fact that she had been neglected for a full eleven minutes. Yet hearing the unmistakable approach of Charles Lawlor' s footsteps, the frown on her face deepened instead of lifting. She scored the glad beat of her heart as still another count against the late-comer. A second later, assured of his welcome, eager with the eternal eagerness of the lover, Charles Lawlor stood on the threshold. He brought a sense of stimu- . lation with him.. He seemed to radiate the fresh strength of out-door life the urge of ambition, and love, and courage. He was all that is best in man and lover; moreover, he was carrying a big bunch of red roses, which he promptly aimed at her listless lap. "Peg! you darling, how awfully lovely you look!" he cried, as the rose-shover took her. Waiting is less entertaining than irritating. But Margaret was attuned for reverence. She rose to her feet "'Peg!" she accused, "I never want to hear that name again from you!" He stared at her with excusable curiosity, with more excusable anger, yet also with a certain generosity of comprehension. She had had high moods before. He held himself chivalrously in hand. "Want the 'Peg' cut out?" he questioned quietly. The ease and not the strength of his quietude impressed her maddeningly. "I do!" she flamed. "I want it 'cut out. And I want the rest of it 'cut out I find myself tired of it all Tired of " Her glibness deserted her here, but she made an action of ruthless significance, by pulling his ring from her finger and offering it to him. He went pale, but he stood quite still without offering to touch the rinjr. or her. "Take h." she insisted, "I am tired of being treated as as you treat me I want to be worthy of respect, I want tojbc Miss Van Dyne again, as I used to be "When we were strangers!" he tupolied.

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"YesP She immediately accepted the whole of tht offered distance. A long pause followed. His head went up; while her's dropped slightly as if regret were already drag ging at her pride. He studied ber attentively. Finallj he said: ' "Oh, well, have everything quite as you please." Then he clasped his hands behind his back, assumec an attitude of pronounced unconcern and asked witl sarcasm: "Do you think it is strictly logical to jump at once from a state of engagedness to absolute unacquaun edness? This now-I-know-you-very-well and now-l do-not-know-you-at-all business is unnecessary wrenching. Let us go back by all means, since you wish it,. but let us go back by slow and easy stages, following the progress of our friendship, only unmaking it in? stead of augmenting it; eh, Peggy?" His repetition of the diminutive seemed to ber an insult upon insult. "What! Again?" she cried furiously. He looked hurt "Why, no, indeed: not again," he explained with' surprising suavity. "If you remember, I said 'Peg" the first time. Don't you see I have commenced traveling backwards? I have calmed myself to Peggy." Margaret looked at him, startled. "Calm' was certainly the word for his state of mind. He was unaffectedly nonchalant He showed himself ready indeed to do her bidding! A real fright began to shake her pulses, and turn her cold and tremulous. "Traveling backwards," and enjoying it! "This is nothing but a farce to you," she faltered, terribly convinced. "Has it always been that, ana nothing more?" , He Bushed indignantly. "You know better," he said quietly. For emotional warfare he had just, the right kind of a voice, a low and musical one; a weapon which attacked while defending. ' Its vibrations , stirred Margaret deeply. She fr resolutely adjusted and readjusted the ring upon her finger and looked firmly down, having no words she dared trust herself to say. He waited and looked at her, giving her the chance to speak. Then with a slight shrug of his shoulder he accepted her silence. "A 'farce, you say," he repeated thoughtfully. "If so, then it was a 'farce' of which I, at least, nevet tired." He drew from ' his pocket . her photograph, studying it reverently. "A farce," he went on, "which has nightly drawn me here unwearied of its perpetual entertainment, Madge." . ' '" ',: With a quick bitter sigh he resolutely put the photograph away from him, shoving it far across the table. He did not look at her, but, dropped into a big chair and leaned wearily back, apparently mastered ... 1 by his thoughts, none too cheery ones. V Margaret flickered another , glance toward him, he y looked so big, so good, the smooth cantour of his face unmarred by any of the telltale lines of malicious -living or thinking. He looked so far away I He -who had lately been so nearl She . shivered a little and covertly pressed to her lips the unresponsive ring. ) Slowly, and with apparent unconcern, Lawlor rose.. . ' crossed over to Margaret, seated himself upon the lounge and drew her quickly down beside him. His touch sent a wonderful fire of affection rushing consumingly through her. It burned bctrayingly m het K face. Her lover took her hand, singled out her ringi v finger and slipped back upon it the fetter of theis engagement. She drew a full breath of passionate content and leaned near him. "You remember, the evening when I brought it to you?" he whispered. "That lovely night of stars and moon the garden with its clinging perfume the hidden thrill of a nestling bird from the dark branches the music from the ballroom iust you and I in the sweet night world nlone your heart upon my heartas I slipped this tiny ring upon your . finger my affianced wife! do. you remember?" . Did she remember! Could he ask her that? "Don't you remember?" he repeated, this time very casually and cheerfully, while his intense clasp slack, ened. "Don't you, Margaret?" Then he coolly removed the ring, put it with elaborate care into his pocket-book, and, wandering over to the mantel, toyed perfunctorily with the slender silver ' v&sc. " ' ' v ' ' '"''':(-': Margerct was trembling. To give her shaking hands something to do, she took up the shower of roses and tried to smooth their crushed petals into seemliness.: In her mind the flowers were already priceless as the sole links to her dead happiness. She would keep them forever and their withered ghosts should lie upon her breast when the grave opened for her. By the mantel Lawlor covered a yawn; he put down the vase, crossed to the lounge again and took the flowers from her cold fingers. "We have gone back, back, away past the time of roses, have we not. Miss Van Dyne?" he asked respectfully. "These blossoms intrude upon the situation: there is only one thing to be done with these." Only one thing, and he deliberately and unfeelingly did it, twisting their poor heads from the stems and casting the ruins at her feet ; One small slain bud caught in the lace of her dress "like a drop of blood from the stricken heart of love," she thought Again his glance sought the dock and this time he started exaggeratedly when he beheld itt warning. "And I am supposed to be dining at Brierly't," he murmured, as if to himself, and reaching. for his hat and stick, "Not much time to lose. Here he faced Margaret showed a composed surface interest in her prettiness and bowed slightly. "I beg your pardon, dear Madam, for so curt a lcavetaking, but really I find myself deprived of the pleasure of yonr name. I am due to dine with Mr. Brierly at a bouse where I am to meet the girl whom I hope to make my wife. - Good-night" He turned on his heel, strode through the curtains, whipped them conclusively to behind him and disappeared. "Charlie!" cried ' Margaret, rather angrily. Then she bethought herself that the was wing a name too familiar for the conditions. ? -' "Charles," she ventured, mgratiatingJy. Then the had doubts of that T "Mr. Lawlor" But at this respectful point, her ear, which had been listening in vain for Iris returning step, beard now the distant click of the closing front dooc He was indeed gone. ' ' Gone. And gone to meet the girl whom he hoped to make his wife! Now what could he mean by that? And whom could he mean? What girl was to be at Brierly's? Margaret jumped excitedly to her feet - Flying to the bell, the rang instantly. Kitty was clever, but not being lupernatmally ec she appeared without wraps and was rated for it -The rating kept up even after the wraps had been produced and were being draped about their owner. "Pardon," murmured Kitty defensively, "I thought miss, you said you were not going out ' . "'Not going ouf!" objected Margaret Indignantly -Why. I'm to dine at Brierly's."

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