t because
you say so. Our superior rank places us in the front row of the
procession. Come on, Nora. May I sing and dance? I haven't sung the
chorus yet, you know."

Without waiting for permission Hippy pranced ahead of her on his toes,
swaying from side to side and scattering the flowers from his bouquet,
his voice rising in a falsetto chorus of:

"Singing merrily, merrily, merrily, Follow me, full of glee, Singing
merrily."

"He'll never grow old," said Anne, as she watched Hippy's ridiculous
performance.

"Neither will the rest of the Eight Originals," reminded Grace loyally.
"Remember, we have a Fairy Godmother who has taught us the secret of
perpetual youth."

"What's the secret?" asked David innocently. He was fond of hearing
Grace's enthusiastic views of things.

"Never lose one's grip on life," she answered simply.

And as the Eight Originals strolled home through the radiant sunset, in
each young soul stirred the resolve to take a firm grip on life and keep
eternally young at heart, no matter what the years might bring forth.

CHAPTER VI

JESSICA'S WEDDING

"Jessica Bright, you will never look prettier in your life than you do
to-night!" exclaimed Grace Harlowe, as she stood off a little from her
friend and gazed at her with loving eyes.

A wave of color dyed Jessica's pale cheeks. "I'm so glad that you think
so," she breathed. "Do you know, girls, I have always hoped that I'd
look nicer on my wedding day than at any other time. I'm glad I decided
to have a green and white wedding, too."

"You always used to say that you were going to have a pink rose
wedding," reminded Anne. "What made you change your mind?"

"Promise you won't laugh and I'll tell you," said Jessica solemnly.

It was the evening of Jessica's wedding and Mabel Allison, Anne Pierson,
Miriam Nesbit, Eleanor Savelli, Nora, now Mrs. Hippy Wingate, and Grace
gathered about their friend with voluble promises of eternal secrecy.
They were in Jessica's room saying good-bye to Jessica Bright, so soon
to become Jessica Brooks.

"I changed my mind," informed Jessica impressively, "on account of
Reddy's hair."

"'On account of Reddy's hair,'" repeated Grace. "Why--" Then, catching
Nora's eye, she laughed.

"You know how dreadfully pink and red clash," Jessica went on, with a
faint giggle, "but I had never thought of it until one night when Reddy
was sitting on our porch. He wrapped my pink scarf around his neck just
for fun,