d that the last night before the
young folks started for Shadyside must be reserved for final packing and
early retirement so that the gay band might begin their journey
auspiciously. The Tuesday evening before the Thursday they were to leave
for school, the host and hostess gave a dance for their young people.

"I'm glad to have at least one chance to wear this dress," observed
Bobby, smoothing down the folds of her rose-colored frock with
satisfaction. "The only thing I don't like about Shadyside, so far, is
that restriction about party clothes."

"I imagine it is a wise rule in many ways," said Betty sagely, thinking
particularly of the Guerin girls, who would probably be hard-pressed to
get even the one evening frock allowed. "You know how some girls are,
Bobby; they'd come with a dozen crepe de chine and georgette dresses and
about three clean blouses for school-room wear."

"Like Ruth Gladys Royal," giggled Bobby. "I remember her at Miss
Graham's last year. Goodness, the clothes that girl would wear! The rest
of us didn't even try to compete. And, by the way, girls, Ruth Gladys is
going to Shadyside. Her aunt telephoned mother last night while we were
at the movies."

"That's the girl we went to call on that day we saw Mr. Peabody tackle
Bob in the hotel," Louise explained in an aside to Betty. "I wonder why
every one seems bent and determined to go to Shadyside this year."

"Because it is a fine school with a half-century reputation," Bobby, who
had studied the catalogue, informed her sister primly.

"I'm not going," objected Esther. "I think it's mean."

"Mother and dad need one girl at home, dearest," her mother reminded her,
as she came in looking very handsome and kindly in a black spangled net
gown. "All ready, girls? Then suppose we go down."

It was a simple and informal dance, as befitted the ages of the guests,
but Mr. and Mrs. Littell knew to perfection the secret of making each one
enjoy himself. There were a handful of outside friends invited, and
Betty, to whom a party was a never-failing source of delight, felt, as
she confided to Bob, as though she were "walking on air."

"You look awfully nice in that white stuff," he said frankly, and Betty
liked the comment on her pretty ruffled white frock which she had
dubiously decided a moment before was too plain.

Betty was what country folk call a "natural-born dancer," and she
quickly learned the new steps she had had no opportunity to practice