e continued. "Wouldn't it be
lovely if you could come for a whole Saturday, or to stay the night some
time? I'm going to ask Mother to ask you. We'd have such a jubilee! Can
you play poker patience? Oh, I love it too! And I've the sweetest wee
packs of cards you ever saw. I want to show you my stamps and my crests.
I've got two big books full, and some are really rare ones. I'll bring
the stamps now."

"Alison, I simply can't stay!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Look at the time!
Why, I shall just have to race to the station!"

"Oh, bother! Yes, you'll have to fly. I always allow five minutes. I've
never tried running, because Mother says I mustn't--it makes me cough.
Where are your hat and coat? Why, of course, we left them on the
landing. You haven't finished your cake----"

"Never mind!" cried Dorothy, who was already out of the door and
hastening upstairs to fetch her outdoor garments. "Oh, it's been so
jolly to come and see you, Alison! I have enjoyed it. Just hold my
coat--thanks. I'm putting on my hat wrong way about! Bother! I'll alter
it in the train. Where are my satchel and umbrella? Good-bye; I shall
just have to sprint."

Alison stood looking regretfully down the drive as her friend hurried
away. She was loath to part with her, and turned indoors with a sigh.
She dearly loved young companions, and the beautiful house and its many
treasures seemed dull without a congenial soul of her own age with whom
to "go shares". She was full of Dorothy's visit when her mother returned
home, and poured out a most excited and rather jumbled account of it.

"It just suddenly occurred to me to ask her, you know, Mother, because I
did so want her to try on those costumes. She put on the mediaeval one,
and the Cavalier's cloak and hat, and the Norwegian bodice, and then she
looked exactly like the picture of Aunt Madeleine. Wasn't it queer?"

"I dare say the combination of costumes made quite a good copy of the
Venetian dress," responded Mrs. Clarke.

"But it wasn't the dress that was so like--it was Dorothy. You never saw
anything so funny, Mother! She was the absolute image of the
portrait--far more like than I am to you. Even Bruce saw it."

"You take after your father, not me."

"I don't know who Dorothy takes after, and I don't suppose she does
either. She's never seen her father or mother. She doesn't even know who
they were. Isn't it horrid for her?"

"How is that?"

"Oh, it's quite romantic! Some of the girls at sc