wish you would come on and get to work," called Grace over her
shoulder, as she hurried past, and Hippy darted after her, remembering
that he had not done a thing that evening to assist the girls.

"How fine Grace Harlowe does look, Mrs. Nesbit," remarked Miss Thompson,
"and how I shall miss her when she leaves the High School! The time goes
too quickly to suit me, when all these nice girls leave us for college."

Miss Thompson still cherished a deep regard for Grace, although, since
the circumstance of Grace's refusal to betray Eleanor, narrated in
"Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High School," the two had never
returned to quite the same footing as formerly.

Grace was, indeed, the picture of a beautiful gipsy girl who in romance
turns out not to be a gipsy at all, but a princess stolen in her youth.
She wore a skirt of red trimmed in black and yellow, a full white blouse
and a little black velvet bolero. Around her waist she had tied a gayly
colored sash, while on her head was a gipsy headdress bordered with gold
fringe.

"Hippy," commanded Grace, "will you please take this gong and announce
that the auction is about to begin!"

"Certainly, certainly," answered Hippy. "Anything to oblige the ladies."

He mounted a chair and beat on the Japanese gong.

"This way, ladies and gentlemen. Come right this way! The 'Mystery
Auction' will now commence. It is a sale of surprises. You never know
what you are going to draw, but it's sure to be something nice.
Everybody step this way, please. These interesting and mysterious
packages are to be sold each to the highest bidder. But no man knoweth
what he draweth. It is the way of life, ladies, but that's where the fun
comes in, and it's sportsmanlike to take your chances, gentlemen."

By this time Hippy had drawn a crowd of curious people about the booth
devoted to that purpose, in which were piled dozens of packages of
various shapes and sizes, all done up in white tissue paper and tied
with red ribbons.

Hippy picked up the first bundle.

"Is there anyone here who will make a bid on this interesting package?"
he cried. "It may contain treasure. Who knows? It may contain fruits
from the tropics, or the spices of Araby, or--"

"I'll bid ten cents," called a voice.

"Ten cents!" exclaimed Hippy in mock horror. "I ask you, dear friend,
can our gymnasium be builded upon ten cents? Is there no one here who is
thinking of our late, lamented gymnasium? Have we already forgot