, too, and would later be loaded with all sorts of good
things: sandwiches, hot biscuits, tamales, cakes, and black coffee
without sugar. In the center of the table already there was a huge round
white something that called forth delighted clappings from the Happy
Hexagons as they flocked in at seven o'clock to look at the table
decorations.

"Oh, what a lovely cake," gurgled Tilly, "and such a big one!"

Genevieve laughed mischievously.

"I'll give you the whole cake--if you'll cut it," she proposed.

With manifest alacrity Tilly reached for a knife.

"Done!" she cried.

Before the knife descended, Genevieve caught her hand.

"Wait! Look here," she parleyed. Taking the knife, she thrust its point
through the elaborate white frosting, with two or three gentle taps.

"Why, it's hard!--hard as stone," ejaculated Tilly, trying for herself.

"It _is_ stone," laughed Genevieve.

"Stone!" cried a chorus of unbelieving voices.

"Yes, stone--frosted with sugar and the whites of eggs. Oh, if you'd
lived in Texas as long as I have you'd have seen them before," nodded
Genevieve.

"Well, I've got my opinion of Texas cakes, then," pouted Tilly, with
saucy impertinence.

"Oh, you'll change it later, I reckon--when you see the real ones,"
rejoined Genevieve, comfortably, as they left the dining-room.

There never had been, surely, such a party. All the Happy Hexagons
agreed to that. So, too, did all the guests. Perhaps on no one's face
was there a look of anxious care except on Cordelia's. Possibly Mr.
Hartley noticed this look. At all events he watched Cordelia rather
closely, as the evening advanced, particularly after he chanced to
overhear some of her remarks to his guests. Then he sought his daughter.

"Dearie," he began in a low voice, leading her a little to one side,
"what in the world ails that little Miss Cordelia?"

"Ails her! What do you mean? Is she sick?"

"No, I don't think so; but she looks as if she'd got the weight of the
whole outfit on her shoulders, and she seems to be going 'round asking
everybody if they knew John somebody, or Lizzie somebody else."

Genevieve laughed merrily; but almost at once she frowned and shook her
head.

"No, I don't know, Father, what is the matter. But Cordelia is capable
of--anything, if once her conscience is stirred. Why don't you ask her
yourself?"

"I believe I will, dearie," he asserted at last.

Five minutes later he chanced to find Cordelia without a pa