she was sick--as if that excused her acting like a little imp!
She ought to have been kept at home--the whole possessed Smith tribe
ought to have been kept at home!

Missy wished she herself were at home. She'd probably missed a telephone
call from Mr. Briggs--he had said he might call up. She could hardly
wait to reach home and find out.

Yes; he had telephoned. Also Mrs. Bonner, inviting Missy to a party on
Saturday night. Missy brightened. She broached the subject of letting
out a tuck. But mother said the pink organdie was long enough--too long,
really. And Aunt Nettie chimed in:

"Why is it that girls can never get old quickly enough? The time'll
come soon enough when they'll wish they could wear short dresses again!"
Missy listened with inner rebellion. Why did old people always talk that
way--that "you-don't-appreciate-you're-having-the-best-time-of-your
life" sort of thing?

Next day was Friday--the day before the party.

It was also "cleaning day" at the Merriams' and, though Missy felt
lassitudinous and headachy, she put extra vim into her share of the
work; for she wished to coax from mother a new sash, at least.

But when Saturday came she didn't mention the sash; her headache had
increased to such a persistent throbbing she didn't feel like going
down to look over the Bonner Mercantile Co.'s stock of ribbons. She was
having trouble enough concealing her physical distress. At dinner mother
had noticed that she ate almost nothing; and at supper she said:

"Don't you feel well, Missy?"

"Oh, yes, I feel all right--fine!" replied Missy, trying to assume a
sprightly air.

"You look flushed to me. And sort of heavy around the eyes--don't you
think so, papa?"

"She does look sort of peaked," affirmed Mr. Merriam.

"She's been dragging around all day," went on the mother. Missy tried
harder than ever to "perk up"--if they found out about the headache,
like as not they'd put a taboo on the party--grown-ups were so
unreasonable. Parties were good for headaches.

"I heard over at Mrs. Allen's this afternoon," Aunt Nettie put in, "that
there's measles in town. All the Smith children are down with it." Missy
recalled the oldest little Smith girl, with the fever, at the picnic,
but said nothing.

"I wonder if Missy could have run into it anywhere," said mother
anxiously.

"Me?" ejaculated the Society Editor, disdainfully.

"Children have measles!"

"Children! Listen to her!" jeered Aunt Nettie with d