tting tender. Think it's
old age?"

Lark now emerged from the bathroom, and both twins performed a flying
exchange of dresses.

"Who won?"

"Lark and George ate eleven pieces, and Fritzie and I only nine. So
Fritzie paid. Then we went on the campus and played mumble-te-peg, or
whatever you call it. It is French, auntie."

"Did they ask us to stay a whole week, auntie?" inquired Lark.

"Yes. Jim was wearing his new gray suit and looked very nice. I've never
been out to their home. Is it very nice?"

"Um, swell!" This was from Carol, Lark being less slangily inclined.
"They have about sixteen rooms, and two maids--they call them
'girls'--and electric lights, and a private water supply,
and--and--horses, and cows--oh, it's great! We've always been awfully
fond of Jim. The nicest thing about him is that he always takes a girl
home when he goes to class things and socials. I can't endure a fellow
who walks home by himself. Jim always asks Larkie and me first, and if
we are taken he gets some one else. Most boys, if they can't get first
choice, pike off alone."

"Here, Carol, you have my petticoat. This is yours. You broke the
drawstring, and forgot--"

"Oh, mercy, so I did. Here, auntie, pin it over for me, will you? I'll
take the string along and put it in to-night."

"Now, Carol," said Aunt Grace, smiling. "Be easy on him. He's so nice it
would be a shame to--"

Carol threw up her eyes in horror. "I am shocked," she cried. Then she
dimpled. "But I wouldn't hurt Jim for anything. I'm very fond of him. Do
you really think there are any--er--indications--"

"Oh, I don't know anything about it. I'm just judging by the rest of the
community."

Lark was performing the really difficult feat of putting on and
buttoning her slippers standing on one foot for the purpose and stooping
low. Her face was flushed from the exertion.

"Do you think he's crazy about you, Carol?" she inquired, rather
seriously, and without looking up from the shoe she was so laboriously
buttoning.

"Oh, I don't know. There are a few circumstances which seem to point
that way. Take that new gray suit for instance. Now you know yourself,
Lark, he didn't need a new gray suit, and when a man gets a brand-new
suit for no apparent reason, you can generally put it down that he's
waxing romantic. Then there's his mother--she's begun telling me all his
good points, and how cute he was when he was born, and she showed me one
of his curls and a lot