party with YOU. Have a good
time, dearie."

"I mean to!" she cried; and she repeated this gaily, but with an
emphasis expressing sharp determination as she left him. "I MEAN to!"

"What was he talking about?" her mother inquired, smoothing the rather
worn and old evening wrap she had placed on Alice's bed. "What were you
telling him you 'mean to?'"

Alice went back to her triple mirror for the last time, then stood
before the long one. "That I mean to have a good time to-night," she
said; and as she turned from her reflection to the wrap Mrs. Adams held
up for her, "It looks as though I COULD, don't you think so?"

"You'll just be a queen to-night," her mother whispered in fond emotion.
"You mustn't doubt yourself."

"Well, there's one thing," said Alice. "I think I do look nice enough to
get along without having to dance with that Frank Dowling! All I ask is
for it to happen just once; and if he comes near me to-night I'm going
to treat him the way the other girls do. Do you suppose Walter's got the
taxi out in front?"

"He--he's waiting down in the hall," Mrs. Adams answered, nervously; and
she held up another garment to go over the wrap.

Alice frowned at it. "What's that, mama?"

"It's--it's your father's raincoat. I thought you'd put it on over----"

"But I won't need it in a taxicab."

"You will to get in and out, and you needn't take it into the Palmers'.
You can leave it in the--in the--It's drizzling, and you'll need it."

"Oh, well," Alice consented; and a few minutes later, as with Walter's
assistance she climbed into the vehicle he had provided, she better
understood her mother's solicitude.

"What on earth IS this, Walter?" she asked.

"Never mind; it'll keep you dry enough with the top up," he returned,
taking his seat beside her. Then for a time, as they went rather jerkily
up the street, she was silent; but finally she repeated her question:
"What IS it, Walter?"

"What's what?"

"This--this CAR?"

"It's a ottomobile."

"I mean--what kind is it?"

"Haven't you got eyes?"

"It's too dark."

"It's a second-hand tin Lizzie," said Walter. "D'you know what that
means? It means a flivver."

"Yes, Walter."

"Got 'ny 'bjections?"

"Why, no, dear," she said, placatively. "Is it yours, Walter? Have you
bought it?"

"Me?" he laughed. "_I_ couldn't buy a used wheelbarrow. I rent this
sometimes when I'm goin' out among 'em. Costs me seventy-five cents and
the price o' the gas."

"