k, and seizing her locks near the
temples, pulled them frenziedly. "Alma Prescott, if you sit there
another moment looking calm, I'll throw this shoe-horn at you. Do
anything, scream, run around in circles, pant, anything, but _don't_
look calm. Every minute I'm forgetting something vital. Let me see,
nail-brush, tooth-brush, cold-cream----"

"If you go over that formula again, I'll be a mopping, mowing idiot,"
observed Alma serenely, from the window-seat. "I wonder how one mops
and mows--it sounds awfully idiotic, doesn't it? I saw you put the
nail-brush _and_ the tooth-brush _and_ the cold-cream in the tray
there--left-hand corner. Now, for goodness' sake, forget about
them--it's just little things like that that unhinge the greatest
minds. You're horribly bad company while you're packing a trunk."

"Well, anyhow, it's nearly done now--and yours is ready."

"You're a lamb for doing mine for me--I haven't been a bit of help, I
know. Oh, you _know_ it's going to be glorious fun--at boarding
school. I've always longed to go to boarding school. And it isn't
awfully strict at Miss Leland's, Elise Porterbridge says. They have
midnight feasts, and all sorts of things--and then, you know, Frank
Barrows is at Harvard, and he asked me up there for some dance near
Christmas. Don't you think Frank is very nice, Nancy?" This was what
Alma had been leading around to, and Nancy knew it. Personally she
thought Frank rather an affected youth, but she had sense enough not to
air this opinion before Alma just then.

"Why, yes, he seems very nice," she replied, with very mild interest.

"I think he has sort of more to him than most men of his age," pursued
Alma, affecting a judicial air.

"Probably he has."

"He dances beautifully. Goodness, I had a wonderful time the other
night. I know that you probably think it's wrong of me, but I'd like
nothing more than to go to a party like that every night in the week."

"_I_ don't think it's wrong at all--only I think you'd probably get
awfully sick of it in a little while. And--and the chief trouble as
far as we are concerned is that it's so dreadfully expensive. I know
you think I'm always harping on the same string--but do you remember
the motto of Mr. Micawber--'Income one pound--expenditure nineteen
shillings and sixpence--product, happiness; income one pound,
expenditure one pound and sixpence, product, misery----'"

"Well, I know that's very sensible, but ther