go down
ever so quietly and get them--and we'll have a spliffy spread." As she
spoke she caught up Jerry's warm eiderdown wrapper and threw it around
her.

Gyp's devotion was very soothing to poor distraught Jerry--so, too, was
the suggestion of the cup cakes. But half-way down the stairs Jerry
stopped short and whispered tragically in Gyp's ear:

"Gyp--_we can't eat them_! Our school record--no sweets between meals!"
And at the thought of school Jerry's world suddenly righted again.

"Oh, well----" Gyp would have liked to suggest missing a point. "We can
eat crackers and peanut butter--instead."

CHAPTER XXI

POOR ISOBEL

The rawness of March gave way to a half-hearted April, days of pelting
rain with a few hours now and then of warm sunshine. Patches of grass
showed green against the dirty snowbanks lingering stubbornly in
sheltered corners; here and there a tiny purple or yellow crocus put up
its bright head; a few brave robins started their nest-keeping and,
perched shivering on bare boughs, valiantly sung the promise of spring.

There were other signs to mark the changing of the seasons--an
organ-grinder trundled his wagon down the street, rag-pickers chanted,
small, scurrying figures darted in and out on roller-skates, marbles
rattled in ragged pockets, and the Lincoln boys and girls at Highacres
turned their attention from basketball and hockey to swimming and the
school dramatics.

Isobel Westley had been chosen to play the part of Hermia in "A
Midsummer Night's Dream." Her family shared her pleasure--they felt that
a great distinction had come to them. Gyp and Jerry, particularly, were
immensely excited. Jerry, who had only been to the theatre twice in her
life, thought Isobel far more wonderful than the greatest actress who
ever lived. Both girls sat by the hour and listened admiringly while
Isobel rehearsed her lines before them.

Mrs. Westley, who had never quite outgrown a love of amateur dramatics,
gave her approval to Isobel's plans for her costume. The other girls,
Isobel explained, were making theirs, but Hermia's should be especially
nice--so couldn't Madame Seelye design it? Madame Seelye did design
it--Isobel standing patiently before the long mirror in the fashionable
modiste's fitting-room while Madame, herself, on her knees, pinned and
unpinned and pinned again soft folds of pink satin which made Isobel's
face, above it, reflect the color of a rose.

"You'd think the whole wor