ayre saw the big brown eyes of
Dotty Rose twinkle and saw her red lips smile, she discovered that the
scowl she had objected to was not permanent, and she smiled back.

But somehow, they could think of nothing to say. The smile broke the ice
a little, but Dolly Fayre was timid, and Dotty Rose was absorbed in
looking at the other's blue eyes and yellow hair.

But it was Dotty who spoke first. "Well," she said, "how do you like
me?"

It was an unfortunate question. For Dolly Fayre hadn't a single definite
notion regarding Dotty Rose except that she didn't like her. However, it
would hardly do to tell her that, so she said, slowly: "I don't know
yet; how do you like me?"

"Well, I think you're awfully pretty, to begin with."

"So do I you," put in Dolly, glad to find a favourable report that she
could make truthfully.

"Aren't we different," went on the other thoughtfully; "you're so blonde
and I'm so dark."

"Yes; I just hate my hair,--towhead, Bert calls me."

"Who's Bert?"

"He's my brother; he's away at school. He's seventeen years old." Dolly
spoke proudly, as if she had said, "he's captain of the Fleet."

"Why, I've got a brother away at school, too."

"Have you? What's his name?"

"Bob; of course it's Robert, but we always call him Bob. He's eighteen."

"What else have you got?"

Dotty knew the question referred to family connections, and answered: "A
little sister, Genie, 'leven years old."

"That all?"

"Yep. 'Cept Aunt Clara, who lives with us, she's a widow. And of course,
Mother and Dad."

"I've got a grown-up sister, Trudy. She's in s'ciety now, and she's
awful pretty."

"Look like you?"

"Some. But she's all fluffy-haired and dimply-smiled, you know."

"What funny words you use."

"Do I? Well, I only do when I can't think of the real ones. Are you
going to the Grammar School?"

"Mother says it's too late to begin this year. Here it is May,--and it
closes in June. So she says for me to wait till next year."

This was comforting. If the girl didn't go to school this year she
couldn't make any bother with the Closing Exercises. Beside, maybe she
was not such a dislikable girl as she had seemed at first. Dolly sat and
regarded her. At last she said: "Then the doll-carriage belongs to your
little sister."

"To Genie, yes. How did you know she had one?"

"Saw it come with your things, the day you moved in."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen, but I'll be fifteen next month,--June."