hem to spend the night
with her at her aunt's house. The aunt, Mrs. Cummings, was herself
away on a brief vacation, but had given her harum-scarum niece
permission to take possession of her pretty bungalow for the two nights
the party would be in Los Angeles before school commenced. So, as the
gray day dawned, it found a dozen mummy-like figures stretched about
the floor of the great living-room, wrapped in blankets and quilts, and
snoring blissfully.

This was the audience which Tabitha addressed, but she did not realize
that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, and was startled when Myra,
without opening her eyes, grunted, "Huh! You'll sing another tune
before night. This is to be _the_ gala day of your life. You will
never forget it. When Dad starts out to do a thing, he never stops
half way. The only trouble is to get him started."

"I didn't mean to grumble, truly," cried Tabitha, dismayed at having
had her ungracious complaint overheard by her young hostess. "It is
just grand of your family to invite all of us out to your ranch for the
day, but I believe it's going to rain. It certainly looks like it.
You could cut the fog with a knife."

"Whist! my young friend," murmured Gwynne, wakened from her slumbers by
the sound of voices in the room. "Don't be so pessimistic. Don't you
know it never rains in California? At least not in the summer time."
For from the opposite corner of the room someone had sleepily murmured,
"What about the ostriches?" and the whole company laughed
reminiscently, recalling that Thanksgiving night when the storm had
frightened the ostriches at the Park until they broke loose and created
a panic among the returning theatre-goers.

"Who said rain?" demanded Grace, lifting a tousled head from the pillow
to survey the hilarious group scattered about the floor of the spacious
room.

"Go back to sleep,--you dreamed it!" teased Bessie, who had begun to
slip on her clothes. "'Twas snow we were talking about. Feels like
it, anyway."

"It _is_ pretty chilly," admitted Tabitha, shivering under the thin
folds of her borrowed dressing-gown, as she turned away from the window
and prepared to follow Bessie's example. "Wake up, thou sluggards,
'tis time you were dressed. Remember we have a long and arduous day
ahead of us."

"Kitty must be tired," said Julia in mock sympathy, crawling out of her
warm nest and jerking the blanket off her nearest neighbor with
ruthless hand. "Is that