igate.

"Now look here," said Jane irritably, "you'll just finish your dinner
before you leave the table. Here's your cake. _Eat_ it!"

Gwendolyn ate her slice daintily, using a fork.

Jane also ate a slice--holding it in her fingers. "There's ways of
managin' a fairly jolly afternoon," she said from the depths of the
arm-chair.

"You're speakin' of--er--?" asked Thomas, picking up cake crumbs with a
damp finger-tip.

"Uh-huh."

"A certain party would have to go along," he reminded.

"_Of_ course. But a ride's better'n nothin'."

"Shall I telephone for--?" Thomas brought a finger-bowl.

Gwendolyn stood up. A ride meant the limousine, with its screening top
and little windows. The limousine meant a long, tiresome run at good
speed through streets that she longed to travel afoot, slowly, with a
stop here and a stop there, and a poke into things in general.

Her crimson cheeks spoke rebellion. "I want a walk this afternoon," she
declared emphatically.

"Use your finger-bowl," said Jane. "Can't you _never_ remember your
manners?"

"I'm seven to-day," Gwendolyn went on, the tips of her fingers in the
small basin of silver while her face was turned to Jane. "I'm seven
and--and I'm grown-up."

"And you're splashin' water on the table-cloth. Look at you!"

"So," went on Gwendolyn, "I'm going to walk. I haven't walked for a
whole, whole week."

"You can lean back in the car," began Jane enthusiastically, "and
pretend you're a grand little Queen!"

"I don't _want_ to be a Queen. I want to _walk_.

"Rich little girls don't hike along the streets like common poor little
girls," informed Jane.

"I don't _want_ to be a rich little girl,"--voice shrill with
determination.

Jane went to shake her frilled apron into the gilded waste-basket beside
Gwendolyn's writing-desk. "You can telephone any time now, Thomas," she
said calmly.

Gwendolyn turned upon Thomas. "But I don't _want_ to be shut up in the
car this afternoon," she cried. "And I won't! I _won't!_ I WON'T!"

Jane gave a gasp of smothered rage. The reddish eyes blazed. "Do you
want me to send for a great black bear?" she demanded.

At that Gwendolyn quailed. "No-o-o!"

Jane shot a glance toward Thomas. It invited suggestion.

"Let her take something along," he said under his breath, nodding
toward a glass-fronted case of shelves that stood opposite Gwendolyn's
bed.

Each shelf of the case was covered with toys. Along one sat a line of
daintily