is hard to leave home, too."

"Still, you are thinking of doing it when your senior days are over, you
bad child," interposed Grace slyly. "I warn you, you will meet with
strenuous opposition."

"From you?" asked Anne, a little flush creeping into her pale face.

"No, not from me," retorted Grace with significant emphasis.

"Don't tease Anne," laughed Mabel. "Let Genius do as it chooses."

"If you mean me, I choose to go and dress this instant. Come on,
Patience. We will hurry our dressing and be downstairs first. Then we
can monopolize Mr. Ashe."

"Oh, no, you won't," contradicted Elfreda. "I have reserved that
privilege for myself."

"We are ready," exulted Anne outside Elfreda's door half an hour later.
"What did I tell you?"

"So am I," replied Elfreda, opening the door. "And so is Miriam."

Elfreda was looking particularly handsome in her evening gown of golden
brown messaline, trimmed with dull gold embroidery. By constant training
and self-denial she had reduced her weight to one hundred and
thirty-five pounds and could not be truthfully called stout. Her fair
hair was piled high upon her head, and one dull gold butterfly gleamed
in its wavy meshes. Miriam's gown was in her favorite apricot shade of
crepe de chine and brought out fully the beauty of her black hair and
eyes and her exquisite coloring. Mabel had chosen black silk net over
delft blue, while Patience wore a gray chiffon frock over gray silk with
touches of old rose, a frock exactly suited to her calm, high-bred type
of face. Anne's dainty white crepe de chine frock made her look anything
but a theatrical star. Grace, however, had for once departed from her
favorite blue and wore a white chiffon gown whose exquisitely simple
lines made the most of her slender, supple figure. The charm of early
sixteen radiated from her youthful person, and she looked no older than
when she had led the freshman basketball team on to victory in Oakdale
High School.

"Grace can't grow up in spite of her long skirts and done-up hair,"
smiled Miriam.

"That is precisely what I was thinking," agreed Anne. "Is she sixteen or
twenty-three?"

"Aren't you pleased with us, Father, and won't you feel inordinately
proud of your theatre party?" called Mabel from the stairway as they
descended to the hall, where Mr. Ashe stood looking reflectively into
the fire as he waited for his charges.

"Mere words fail to express my admiration," he laughed, bowing to the
sexte