lained Lily. "Teas and charity work, you know."

As Marjorie entered the big limousine, she realized that she had never
ridden in so luxurious a car before. She glanced at the soft upholstery,
the bouquet of real flowers, and felt the warmth of the artificial heat.
Lily's parents were obviously rich, although the girl evidently gave it
little thought now. But Marjorie remembered how impressed her room-mate
had been with the fact when she entered Miss Allen's, and suddenly she
decided that, had she known all this, she would not have blamed her so
severely.

Then the streets claimed her attention. They were filled with traffic of
all kinds, which she watched silently. Her thoughts flew to Frieda
Hammer; she wondered what were her impressions as she entered this
great, noisy confusion, that is called New York. How would she feel
herself, if she had come all alone--with no Lily to direct her, no car
to meet her, no friends to entertain her? Alone, with little or no
money in her purse, and no qualifications to fit her for work! She
shuddered at the very idea; a sort of despair seized her, so that for
the instant she suffered vicariously as acutely as if she were the other
girl in the situation.

But Lily's voice brought her back to reality.

"That was the Grand Central Station, where we came in," explained the
New York girl. "And this is Sixth Avenue."

"And you live in an apartment, too, don't you, Lil?" asked Marjorie, her
gaze resting upon her companion. "Do you know, I've never been in an
apartment!"

"It's an apartment-hotel," corrected Lily. "We don't even get our own
meals!"

Half an hour later, the girls were sitting in Lily's dainty boudoir,
sipping chocolate and enjoying a glorious hour of pure idleness.

"Are we doing anything to-night, Lil?" asked Marjorie, leaning back
contentedly against the cushions on the window seat. "Not that I think
we need to----" she hastened to add, lest her hostess might attribute
her remark to impoliteness.

"Yes, we're going to the theater," replied Lily, laughingly. "It's a
musical comedy. I hope you will like it."

"I'm sure I will. Do you know, Lil, I've never been in a real theater in
my life!" She paused a moment, and then blurted out, unexpectedly,
"Suppose Frieda should be a chorus girl! Do you think we'd recognize
her, with all her paint and powder, if she were?"

Lily smiled at the other's simplicity. Evidently Marjorie had no
conception of the great number of