her now just on my account."

There were plenty of other men at the wedding. "We're the only girls in
the whole family," Charlotte, Ethel's younger sister explained, "and we
have thirty own cousins, most of them grown-up."

"Was that one of the thirty that you were sitting on the stairs with at
the dance?" inquired Mary Brooks sweetly.

Charlotte blushed and Bob flew to her rescue. "We all know why Mary
isn't monopolizing any one," she said. "Are you taking notes for future
use, Mary?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders loftily. "I scorn to answer such nonsense,"
she retorted. "I'm going to be an old maid and make matches for all my
friends."

"We'll come and be posts for you any time after commencement," Babe
assured her amiably. "Did you know, girls, that Mary can't stay over
with Madeline because her mother is giving a New Year's dinner-party.
Who do you suppose will be there?"

The wedding festivities were over at last. "It was all perfectly
scrumptious," Babe wrote Babbie enthusiastically, "and I'm bringing you
a little white satin slipper like those we had filled with puffed rice
for luncheon favors, and a lovely pin that Miss Hale wants you to have
just as if you had come. The nicest thing of all is that vacation isn't
over yet. Is it two weeks or two years since I saw you?"

And next came Bohemia. Before they had quite reached Washington Square
Madeline tumbled her guests hastily off their car.

"I forgot to tell Mrs. McLean when to expect us," she explained. "She is
our cook. So we'll hunt her up now and we might as well buy the luncheon
as we go along."

So first they found Mrs. McLean, a placid old Scotch woman who was not
at all surprised when Madeline announced that she was giving a
house-party for five and had forgotten to mention it sooner. She had a
delicious Scotch burr and an irresistible way of standing in the
dining-room door and saying, "Come awa', my dears," when she had served
a meal. Like everything else connected with the Ayres establishment, she
was always there when you wanted her; between times she disappeared
mysteriously, leaving the kitchen quite clear for Madeline and her
guests, and always turning up in time to wash the fudge-pan or the
chafing-dishes.

From Mrs. McLean's they went down a dirty, narrow street, stopping at a
number of funny, foreign-looking fruit and grocery shops, where they
bought whatever anybody wanted.

"Though it doesn't matter what you have to eat," said Ro