do it, Carol. Let me be the maid. You're lots more effective than I
am."

But Carol stood firm, and the others yielded to her persuasions. They
didn't approve, they didn't sanction, but they did get enthusiastic, and
a merrier houseful of masqueraders was never found than that. Even Aunt
Grace allowed her qualms to be quieted and entered into her part as
semi-invalid auntie with genuine zest.

At three they were all arrayed, ready for the presentation. They
assembled socially in the parlor, the dainty maid ready to fly to her
post at a second's warning. At four o'clock, they were a little fagged
and near the point of exasperation, but they still held their characters
admirably. At half past four a telegraph message was phoned out from the
station.

"Delayed in coming. Will write you later. Very
sorry. Andy Hedges, Jr."

Only the absolute ludicrousness of it saved Carol from a rage. She
looked from the girlish tennis girl to the semi-invalid auntie, and then
to the sweet young daughter of the home, and burst out laughing. The
others, though tired, nervous and disappointed, joined her merrily, and
the vexation was swept away.

The next morning, Aunt Grace went as usual to the all-day meeting of the
Ladies' Aid in the church parlors. Carol and Lark, with a light lunch,
went out for a few hours of spring-time happiness beside the creek two
miles from town.

"We'll come back right after luncheon," Carol promised, "so if Andy the
Second should come, we'll be on hand."

"Oh, he won't come to-day."

"Well, he just better get here before father comes home. I know father
will like our plan after it's over, but I also know he'll veto it if he
gets home in time. Wish you could go with us, Connie."

"Thanks. But I've got to sew on forty buttons. And--if I pick the
cherries on the little tree, will you make a pie for dinner?"

"Yes. If I'm too tired Larkie will. Do pick them, Con, the birds have
had more than their share now."

After her sisters had disappeared, Connie considered the day's program.

"I'll pick the cherries while it's cool. Then I'll sew on the buttons.
Then I'll call on the Piersons, and they'll probably invite me to stay
for luncheon." And she went up-stairs to don a garment suitable for
cherry-tree service. For cherry trees, though lovely to behold when
laden with bright red clusters showing among the bright green leaves,
are not at all lovely to climb into. Connie knew that by e