uch time to think them up it is always a
stiff and frigid function. Moreover, it demands a perfect night--and
we can't count on our Island weather twenty-four hours in advance. But
to-day is perfect, and to-night will be fair with the moon at its
full. You may dance on the veranda or make love on the terrace, just
as you please, from ten o'clock till three--or later. Supper will be
served from midnight on. At one we shall unmask.

"As I say, all preparations had been made, weather permitting; I had
merely to telephone the caterers, electricians, and musicians, and
scribble these invitations. I'd advise you to arrange your day to
include a good long nap before dinner, for you'll be up till all hours
very likely. I fancy I can promise you some fun."

Mrs. Gosnold ceased upon a note of mischievous enjoyment in
anticipation that would have suited a girl of sixteen, then analysed
the trouble behind Sally's perturbed countenance.

"As for your costume, you're not to give it a thought! I have arranged
for it to be brought to your room at half past nine, and I pledge you
my word you'll find it becoming. I have only two requests to make of
you: that you refrain from unmasking or admitting your identity until
one o'clock, and that if you recognise me, you hold your tongue.
Is it a bargain?"

"You're so good to me," said Sally simply, "I can't think how to thank
you."

"Leave that, too, to me. It's quite possible I may suggest a way."
Mrs. Gosnold smiled curiously as at a thought reserved. "Now run
along--order the car and put on your prettiest hat. But a moment!"

She illustrated the process of taking thought by puckering her brows
and clipping her chin between a thumb and forefinger.

"Let me see. Have I remembered everybody?" She conned, half aloud, a
list of names. "But no! What an oversight! I should never have
forgiven myself--or have been forgiven. And my fountain pen needs
refilling. No"--as Sally offered to take the pen--"sit there at the
desk and write at my dictation. I will sign it."

Obediently Sally took her place at the escritoire, arranged a sheet of
the monogrammed note-paper used by Mrs. Gosnold for correspondence
with personal friends (as distinguished from the formal letter-head of
Gosnold House, with its bristling array of telephone numbers and
telegraph, post-office, railroad and steamboat addresses), dipped a
pen, and waited with a mind preoccupied by visions of the night to
come. Her first ball! H