The holidays last for only
two weeks, you know, and mother and dad are so anxious that I shouldn't
lose anything of my school course that they'll probably send me back at
the end of the two weeks, though they may stay a little longer. I only
wish the holidays were four weeks long instead of two."

"How are you ever coming back after two weeks of that sort of life?"
asked Laura. "If I were only lucky enough once to get there I'd never
want to come back."

"Just think of what _fun_ you can have there," remarked Bess Harley. "I
suppose you'll play tennis. What joy to be able to play tennis and get
your nose sunburned in the middle of winter. Think of you playing tennis
in Palm Beach sunshine while we are shivering around fires."

"And golf?" suggested Nan.

"Not that," laughed Grace. "I don't know a mashie from a cleek."

"Of course there'll be boating," suggested Bess.

"And bathing," added Laura with emphasis. "Oh, Grace, I'm just dying of
envy! Think of bathing in January with the water as warm as it is here
in August!"

"Take care you don't get drowned, Gracie," warned Nan, in mock
seriousness. "And look out for sharks. I hear that they're seen
occasionally at Palm Beach."

"For goodness' sake, Nan!" cried Laura reprovingly, "don't even suggest
anything unpleasant in connection with that celestial spot. There's
nothing to be found there but pure, unalloyed bliss."

"Only think of the dances at the hotel!" said Bess, with shining eyes.

"And the fellows," put in Laura mischievously. "Oh, Grace, Grace, what
opportunities for sitting out dances on those wonderful balconies!"

"And the long strolls in the moonlight," added Nan, giving Grace a nudge
with her elbow.

"Or sitting on the beach with some eligible young millionaire, listening
to the waves beating on the sand," teased Rhoda.

"Oh, it's all too wonderful!" exclaimed Laura, suddenly starting up and
pulling Grace out of the chair.

Forgetting the lateness of the hour, she started in a mad whirl about
the room.

"Hush!" cautioned Nan, as a firm footfall was heard in the corridor.

In a twinkling two motionless forms lay in Nan's bed. Rhoda had switched
off the light, and the high backs of chairs and sofa hid crouching
figures, while the almost too regular breathing of the supposed sleepers
was the only sound to be heard when the door opened and the severe and
angular form of Mrs. Cupp stood outlined in the dim light from the
corridor.

CH