ange place.

"Three letters!" cried Lily, triumphantly. "I didn't open mine either; I
waited for you!"

Marjorie's eyes brightened; mail was always welcome.

"You have to guess the postmark, or who it's from!" teased Lily, holding
her hand over the letter.

"Princeton?" asked Marjorie, bending over her crochet to hide a blush.

"Nope!"

Lily tossed the missile into the other girl's lap, for she was too eager
to open her own two letters to cause any further delay. She and Marjorie
had each received square, khaki-colored envelopes, with the well-known
fleur-de-lis on the flap. They were from the Boy Scouts.

"A dance!" cried Marjorie, jumping up in glee, and dropping her crochet
upon the floor. "In honor of the hockey team!"

"Isn't it great, Marj? Who's inviting you?"

"David Conner! Who's your partner?"

"Dick!"

"Of course he is! I needn't have asked."

"John Hadley had better look out," remarked Lily; "or somebody else will
have his girl."

"I'm not anybody's girl!" protested Marjorie, indignantly. And then,
demurely--"Only father's!"

"A dinner-dance!" repeated Lily, reading her invitation for the third
time. "Marj, have you ever been to one?"

"Never!"

"How do you suppose they got Miss Allen's permission?"

"Oh, Miss Phillips saw to that! She can get anything she wants!"
returned Marjorie.

"I hope we beat Miss Martin's team, or we'll feel rather blue. And think
of so much in one day--a hockey game with them, and a dinner and a dance
with the Boy Scouts! And all the day before we go home for
Thanksgiving!"

"Who's your other letter from, Lil?" asked Marjorie, noticing the
envelope unopened on the table.

"Oh, I forgot! And I ought to be ashamed. It's from mama."

She read a few lines and her face lighted up happily. "Marj," she said,
looking up shyly, "mama and papa want you to spend the Thanksgiving
holidays with us. Can you? Oh, please----"

Marjorie threw her arms about Lily, squeezing her for joy.

"I'd love to! I've never been in New York. Oh, if father and mother will
only let me!"

"We'll go to the theater, and ride on the bus--and maybe invite John and
Dick there for dinner--and--and----!"

Marjorie let go of her room-mate, and went over to her desk. "I'm going
to write home this very minute," she announced, and seated herself to
begin the task.

The Boy Scouts had included thirteen girls of the hockey squad in their
invitation, and Miss Phillips, of course. Twelve of the