for to-night."

"Hadn't you better lie down yourself?" the daughter returned. "Are you
ill, mama?"

"Certainly not. What in the world makes you think so?"

"You look pretty pale," Alice said, and sighed heavily. "It makes me
ashamed, having you work so hard--for me."

"How foolish! I think it's fun, getting ready to entertain a little
again, like this. I only wish it hadn't turned so hot: I'm afraid your
poor father'll suffer--his things are pretty heavy, I noticed. Well,
it'll do him good to bear something for style's sake this once, anyhow!"
She laughed, and coming to Alice, bent down and kissed her. "Dearie,"
she said, tenderly, "wouldn't you please slip upstairs now and take just
a little teeny nap to please your mother?"

But Alice responded only by moving her head slowly, in token of refusal.

"Do!" Mrs. Adams urged. "You don't want to look worn out, do you?"

"I'll LOOK all right," Alice said, huskily. "Do you like the way I've
arranged the furniture now? I've tried all the different ways it'll go."

"It's lovely," her mother said, admiringly. "I thought the last way you
had it was pretty, too. But you know best; I never knew anybody with so
much taste. If you'd only just quit now, and take a little rest----"

"There'd hardly be time, even if I wanted to; it's after five but I
couldn't; really, I couldn't. How do you think we can manage about
Walter--to see that he wears his evening things, I mean?"

Mrs. Adams pondered. "I'm afraid he'll make a lot of objections, on
account of the weather and everything. I wish we'd had a chance to
tell him last night or this morning. I'd have telephoned to him this
afternoon except--well, I scarcely like to call him up at that place,
since your father----"

"No, of course not, mama."

"If Walter gets home late," Mrs. Adams went on, "I'll just slip out and
speak to him, in case Mr. Russell's here before he comes. I'll just tell
him he's got to hurry and get his things on."

"Maybe he won't come home to dinner," Alice suggested, rather hopefully.
"Sometimes he doesn't."

"No; I think he'll be here. When he doesn't come he usually telephones
by this time to say not to wait for him; he's very thoughtful about
that. Well, it really is getting late: I must go and tell her she ought
to be preparing her fillet. Dearie, DO rest a little."

"You'd much better do that yourself," Alice called after her, but Mrs.
Adams shook her head cheerily, not pausing on her way to the