of blessed idleness before you?" mocked
Betty.

"Too much idleness," grumbled Grace. "That's the trouble."

"Enter," said Betty drolly, "Doctor Elizabeth Nelson."

Grace digested this remark for a moment, staring at the telephone in
much the same manner as Mollie had done a few minutes before. Then she
swallowed the last of her chocolate in such haste that it almost choked
her.

"Betty," she said, "I have heard you use that tone before. Is there
really something in the wind?"

"Come and see," said Betty and a click at the other end of the wire told
Grace that the conversation was over.

"Oh bother!" she cried, her pretty forehead drawn into a frown. "Now I
suppose I've got to get dressed and go over there before I can find out
what she meant."

In the hall she nearly ran into her mother, who was dressed to go out.
Mrs. Ford was a handsome woman, prominent in the social circles of
Deepdale. She was kindly and sympathetic, and all who knew her loved
her.

So now, as she regarded her mother, a loving smile erased the frown from
Grace's forehead.

"I declare, Mother, you look younger than I do," she said fondly.
"Whither away so early?"

"The art club, this morning," replied Mrs. Ford, her eyes approving the
fair prettiness of her daughter. "Are you going out? I thought you were
deep in that new book."

"I was," said Grace, with a sigh for what might have been. "But Betty
called up and said she wanted me to come over. There's something in the
wind, that's sure, but she wouldn't give me even the teeniest little
hint of what it was. I wasn't going at first, but I----"

"Thought better of it," finished Mrs. Ford, with a smile. "Better go,"
she added, as she opened the door. "My experience with Betty Nelson is
that she usually has something interesting to say. Good-by, dear. If any
one should 'phone while you are here, will you tell them that I shan't
be back till late afternoon?"

Grace promised that she would and moved slowly up the stairs.

Meanwhile Amy Blackford, the last of the trio to whom the dark-haired,
pink-cheeked little person who was Betty Nelson had telephoned, had
stopped merely to remove the apron from in front of her pink-checked
gingham dress and was now flying along the two short blocks that
separated her house from the Nelsons'.

As for poor Mollie Billette, she was nearly distracted. Torn with
curiosity, as that young person very often was, to know the facts that
had prompted Betty's e