he could steal into the big library and read the hours away
without being disturbed, or scribble things on paper that she would like
to expand into something, some day, when her diffidence should leave
her.

To-day, curled up in one of the big window seats, Molly was thinking of
a curious thing that had happened that morning at O'Reilly's.

She had gone in to say good-bye to Judith Blount and Madeleine Petit,
who were leaving for New York by the noon train.

"I suppose you'll be visiting all the tea rooms in town for new ideas,"
Molly had said pleasantly.

"Yes, indeed," said Madeleine. "I never leave a stone unturned and
everything's grist that comes to my mill. This fall I got six new ideas
for sandwiches and the idea for a kind of bun that ought to be popular
if only because of the name. I haven't the recipe, but I think I can
experiment with it until I get it."

"What's the name?" Molly asked idly, never thinking of what a train of
consequences that name involved.

"'Snakey-noodles.' Isn't it great? Can't you see it on a little menu and
people ordering out of curiosity and then ordering more because they're
so good?"

"Snakey-noodles," Molly repeated in surprise.

"That's the name, isn't it, Judith?" asked Madeleine.

"Oh, yes, I remember it because the bun is formed of twisted dough like
a snake coiled up."

"It's very strange," said Molly.

"What's strange?"

"Why, that name, snakey-noodle. You see it's a kind of family name with
us. Our old cook has been making them for years. I really thought she
had originated it, but I suppose other colored people know it, too.
Where did you have one?"

"At a spread, oh, weeks and weeks ago."

"But where?" insisted Molly. "I have a real curiosity to know. Was it a
Southern spread?"

"Far from it," said Madeleine. "Yankee as Yankee. One of the girls in
Brentley House gave the spread."

"But she didn't provide the snakey-noodles," put in Judith. "What's that
girl's name who talks through her nose?"

"Miss Windsor."

"Oh!"

"Coming to think of it, I believe she said they had been sent to her
from an aunt in the South," went on Madeleine. "So you see, Molly,
nobody has been poaching on your preserves."

Molly only smiled rather vaguely. She would have liked to ask a dozen
more questions, but kept silent and presently, after shaking hands with
the two inseparable friends, she went up to the library to think.
Somehow Molly was not surprised. Nothing that