ing the simplicity of the Settlement
House where she had worked) and ask her to send up a few suitable
pictures and the right books with which to begin. "_She'll_ know,
dearie."

While the final preparations were going rapidly forward, Mrs. Lynch took
pains to spread the news of the House of Laughter through the Mill
Village by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with Mrs. Whaley and
telling her all about it. "It's better it is than the written word," she
explained to Robin, who had worried over just how the Mill people were
going to know about their plans. "And when you send the cute little
cards around it'll be in crowds they come, you mark me."

"Don't you think everything'll be ready by Saturday night?" Robin asked
eagerly.

Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would be, for he had not been
able to hold Robin to serious study since the holidays. And poor
Harkness had developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures Miss
Lewis sent and laying clean white paper in cupboards and on shelves.

Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether the windows of the
living room of the House of Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, and
laughed when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir Galahad, because
he looked as though he were seeing such a beautiful vision, to hang over
the shelf Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively interest in
the festivities which were to open the House to the Mill people. Robin
let her help in planning everything to the smallest detail.

The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with their
sleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and
depart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the evening
the young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather in
the living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at the
books and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would be
sandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a little
speech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to do
what they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behind
the shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail,
shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," but Beryl had insisted
that she really must because she was a "Forsyth."

Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting them
to come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night.

And