d she
and Malcolm and Keith are coming out to grandmother's this afternoon as
straight as the train can carry them, you might know. They always do,
first thing. Don't they, mamma?"

Mrs. Walton nodded yes, then said: "Suppose you bring the play down this
afternoon, Betty. Ask your mother to come too, Lloyd, and we'll read it
out under the trees. Now are all the characters decided upon?"

"All but the ogre," said Betty.

"Joe Clark is the very one for that," exclaimed Lloyd. "He is head and
shouldahs tallah than all the othah boys, although he is only fifteen, and
his voice is so deep and gruff it sounds as if it came out of the cellah.
We can stop and ask him if he'll take the part."

"Invite him to come down to the reading of the play, too," said Mrs.
Walton. "I'll look for you all promptly at four."

Betty almost lost her courage that afternoon when she saw the large group
waiting for her under the beech-trees on Mrs. Walton's lawn. Mrs.
MacIntyre was there, fresh and dainty as Betty always remembered her, with
the sunshine flickering softly through the leaves on her beautiful white
hair. Miss Allison, who, in the children's opinion, knew everything, sat
beside her, and worst of all, the younger Mrs. MacIntyre was there;
Malcolm's and Keith's mother, whom Betty had never seen before, but of
whom she had heard glowing descriptions from her admiring sons.

Lloyd pointed her out to Betty as they drove in at the gate. "See, there
she is, in that lovely pink organdy. Wouldn't you love to look like her? I
would. She's like a queen."

Betty sank back, faint with embarrassment. "Oh, godmother!" she whispered.
"I know I can't read it before all those people. It will choke me. There's
at least a dozen, and some of them are strangers."

Mrs. Sherman smiled, encouragingly. "There's nothing to be afraid of,
dear. Your play is beautiful, in my opinion, and every one there will
agree with me when they've all heard it. Go on and do your best and make
us all proud of you."

There was no time to hesitate. Keith was already swinging on the carriage
steps to welcome them, and Malcolm and Ranald were bringing out more
chairs to make places for them with the group under the beeches. Nobody
mentioned the play for some time. The older people were busy questioning
Mrs. Sherman about her summer abroad, and Malcolm and Keith had much to
tell the others of their vacation at the seashore; of polo and parties and
ping-pong, and several p