Martie
presently ventured.

Sally pursed her lips and shook a doubtful head.

"Oh, but, Sally, I don't mean a real party, of course. Just about
twenty--" Martie began.

"Lemonade and cake?" Sally supplied.

"Well--coffee and sandwiches, Rodney seemed to think. And punch."

"Punch! Martie! You know Pa never would."

"I don't see why not," Martie said discontentedly, slapping down her
cards noisily. Sally spoke only the truth, yet it was an irritating
truth, and Martie would have preferred a soothing lie.

"What about music for dancing?" Sally asked, after a thoughtful
interval.

"Angela Baxter," Martie said with reviving hope.

"But she charges two dollars; at least she did for the Baptist euchre."

"Well--that's not so much!"

"We could make those cute brown-bread sandwiches Rose had," Sally
mused, warming to the possibility. "And use the Canton set. Nobody in
town has china like ours, anyway!"

"Oh, Sally," Martie was again fired, "we could have creamed chicken and
sandwiches--that's all anybody ever wants! And it's so much sweller
than messy sherbets and layer cake. And we could decorate the rooms
with greens--"

"Our rooms are lovely, anyway!" Sally stated with satisfaction.

"Why, with the folding doors open, and fires in both grates, they would
be perfectly stunning!" Martie spoke rapidly, her colour rising, her
blue eyes glittering like stars. "Of course, the back room isn't
furnished, but we could scatter some chairs around in there; we'll need
all the room for dancing, anyway!"

"We couldn't dance on this carpet," Sally submitted, perplexed, as she
glanced at the parlour's worn floor-covering.

"No, but we could in the back room--that floor's bare--and in the
hall," Martie answered readily. "You see it's the first of a sort of
set of dances; the next would be at the Frosts' or the Barkers', and it
would mean that we were right in things--"

"Oh, it would be lovely if we could do it!" Sally agreed with a sigh.
"Play the Queen on here, Martie, and then you'll have a space."

"Do you propose to play that game much longer, girls?" their father
asked, looking patiently over his book.

"Are we disturbing you, Pa?" Martie countered politely.

"Well--but don't stop on my account. Of course the sound of cards and
voices isn't exactly soothing. However, go on with your game--go on
with your game! If I can't stand it, I'll go back to the library."

"Oh, no, Pa, it's too cold in there; this is th