in at this minute and put an end to her curiosity.

"Oh, Auntie Mogs, Sally just called up to say that she and Daphne would
come by for us in Daphne's car, and we could all go to Miss Pringle's
and try on our costumes!" she exclaimed.

"Why, how very nice of Daphne,"--Miss Carter smiled. "I was worrying
about your having to go out on this miserable day."

Phyllis laughed and put her arm around her aunt.

"You see there are no two ways about it!" she cried. "We should have a
car of our own and then you would never have to worry about our feet."

"Oh, Phyllis, you're a great one,"--her aunt laughed. "Well, I'm
afraid I must keep on worrying for we certainly can't have a car."

"Glad of it." Janet, for all her apparent interest for her book, had
been listening with one ear to the conversation.

"Why, Jan,"--Phyllis looked at her in amazement--"wouldn't you like a
car?"

"No, I hate them; silly smelly things--give me a horse every time."

"Old fashioned," scoffed Phyllis. "I'll take a high-powered racer
every time."

Miss Carter listened and smiled her amusement.

"And you will both have to take a street car,"--she laughed. "Poor
abused children! Hurry along with you, and get ready or you will keep
Daphne waiting."

"There they are now!" Phyllis exclaimed, as the front door bell pealed
merrily. "That's Sally's ring; I know it."

Janet threw down her book, and they went to their rooms in search of
hats.

A few minutes later they were all in the comfortable limousine,
speeding along uptown.

"It was awfully nice of you to stop for us, Taffy," Phyllis said as
soon as the greetings were over. "This is certainly a whole lot better
than walking."

"Yes, isn't it!" Daphne agreed. "I was tickled when mother said I
could have it. It isn't often that I can, you know."

Sally had been looking out of the window, and suddenly she leaned
forward and knocked on the glass and waved.

"Look!" she exclaimed. "There's little Donald; isn't he the cutest
youngster?"

Phyllis waved too, then she looked puzzled.

"Funny," she said under her breath.

"What is?" Janet demanded.

"Oh, nothing."

Daphne looked back at Donald through the window above her head.

"Isn't that Donald Keith?" she asked, and Phyllis nodded.

"It is Donald Francis MacFarlan Keith,"--she laughed, "or so he told me
with much pardonable pride. He was most sympathetic when I had to
confess to only two names."

"His father's a frien