had submitted to to make the Belden House play a success.

"Just think up the idea," Marie went on, persuasively, "and I'll make a
committee do the rest. I don't care what we have, so long as it's new
and taking--the sort of thing that you always seem to have in your head.
That's what we want. Plays and lectures are too commonplace."

"Marie," said Madeline, laughingly, "you talk as if ideas were cabbages
and my head was a large garden. I can't produce ideas to order any more
than the rest of you can. But if I should think of anything, I'll let
you know."

"Thank you," said Marie, sweetly, and went back to her room, where she
gave vent to some forcible remarks about the "exasperatingness" of
clever people who won't let themselves be pinned down to anything.

It was Betty Wales who, dancing into Madeline's room the next afternoon,
gave, not Madeline, but Eleanor Watson,--who had been having tea with
Madeline and listening to her absurd version of Marie's request,--an
inspiration.

"I wish it wasn't babyish to like toys," she sighed. "I've been
down-town with Bob, and they've opened a big toy-shop in the store next
Cuyler's, just for the holidays, I suppose. Bob got a Teddy bear, and I
bought this box of fascinating little Japanese tops for my baby sister.
They're all like different kinds of fruit and you spin them like
pennies, without a string. I just love toy-stores."

"So do I. So does everybody," said Madeline, oracularly, clearing a
place on the polished tea-table and emptying out the miniature tops.
"They renew your youth. Let's get all these things to spinning at once,
Betty."

"Why don't you have a toy-shop for your senior entertainment?" asked
Eleanor, watching the two absorbed faces.

"How do you mean?" asked Madeline, absently, trying to make the purple
plum she was manipulating stay upright longer than Betty's peach.

"Why, with live toys, something on the plan of the circus that you and
Mary got up away back in sophomore year," explained Eleanor. "I should
think you might work it up beautifully."

Madeline stared at her for a moment, her eyes half-closed. "Eleanor,"
she declared at last, "you're a genius. We could. I can fairly see my
friends turning into toys. You and Betty and the rest of the class
beauties are French dolls of course. Helen Adams would make a perfect
jumping-jack--she naturally jerks along just like one."

"And Bob can be a jack-in-the-box," cried Betty eagerly, getting
Madeli