haking hands with their guests. Just back of them sat
Miss Betsey in her best black silk dress, and dear Miss Jenny Ann in a
white silk gown, looking as young as any one of her girls. Between them
was little Alice. On the other side of Miss Betsey a stately old
gentleman smiled indulgently on the young people. Mr. John Randolph
could no longer have been mistaken for a ghost. A few days of cheerful
conversation with his old friends, good food and sunshine had revived
him wonderfully. Mrs. Preston explained to her friends that Mr. Randolph
had been living alone and, accompanied by his grand-daughter, had lately
come to make them a visit.

The four girls walked about the great room, receiving their visitors,
talking to them, trying to entertain them, doing everything in their
power to delay the dancing, in the vain hope that their friends would
still appear.

In answer to a nod from Mrs. Preston, Madge and Phil hurried to her
side. "It is time to begin the dance, dears," reminded Mrs. Preston. "I
am sorry that your friends have not arrived, but we can't disappoint our
other guests on their account. Tell Sam to begin with an old-fashioned
Virginia reel. It is the way we begin our dances down here in the
country."

Madge slipped out in the back hall. She noticed David standing alone
near the front door. He seemed shy and ill at ease. He did not know how
to dance, and it was hard to pretend to be cheerful when he had such a
load on his mind.

A loud ring at the front-door bell and a knock on the door startled
David. He went forward to open it, but a witch of a girl in a pale blue
flowered silk, her blue eyes dancing under her poke bonnet, flitted by
him. "Please let me open the door, David," she entreated. "I feel just
sure Tom and the other boys have come at last."

Tom Curtis stared blankly. Who was this lovely apparition that had
opened the old farmhouse door for him? Was he dreaming, or had he and
his friends strayed into the wrong house? There were the sounds of music
and strange boys and girls were about everywhere. Tom took off his hat.
With a familiar gesture he ran his fingers through his curly light hair,
making it stand on end. "Who is it, and where am I?" he asked feebly,
pretending to be overcome with emotion, like the hero in a romantic
play.

"Come into the house, Tom Curtis, this minute, and don't be a goose! You
know perfectly well I am Madge. Only to-night I am appearing in the
character of Miss Doll