dared not ask her, and
while she was thinking about it Patricia spoke.

"I asked you over to my house because I think I'd like you for my best
friend," she said, "and because I've got something to tell you."

Arabella stared at her through her glasses, but she said nothing.

"You're sort of old-fashioned," Patricia continued, "but I guess we can
play together nicely, and you needn't be provoked at what I said, for
we're going to have a secret the very first thing, and I'll tell it to
you when we're having our ice cream."

They entered a tiny store which the sign stated was an "Ice Cream
Parlor." There was room for but three little tables, but Arabella
thought it quite grand, for the wall-paper was covered with gaudy
flowers, and the ice cream was very pink.

They took tiny sips that the treat might last longer, and Arabella
watched Patricia, and waited to hear what she had to tell.

At last Patricia lost patience.

"Why don't you ask what the secret is?" she asked.

"Why don't you tell it if it's worth telling?" Arabella asked, coolly.

"I _guess_ it's worth telling," said Patricia. "Say, you'll be at
Dorothy Dainty's party, won't you?"

"Of course I'll be there; my costume is 'most done."

"What's it going to be?"

"Why, don't you remember we are not to tell any one what we are to wear;
not even the color of our dominoes?" Arabella asked in surprise.

"Well, we didn't promise not to tell," said Patricia, "and, anyway, I'm
going to tell you. Ma has made me a Spanish dress, all spangles, and red
ribbons, and gold tinsel, and my domino that will cover it for the first
of the evening will be bright yellow! I've told you, Arabella
Corryville, because now you'll know which I am, as soon as you see me,
and you'll be just mean if you don't tell me now what you're going to
wear." Arabella hesitated.

"Dorothy wouldn't like to have us tell," she said.

"Well, we needn't tell her we told, and what about _me_? Here I've
treated you to candy and ice cream, and told you all about my costume.
If you were half-nice, you'd think you _ought_ to tell me about yours."

Patricia's voice sounded grieved, and Arabella wavered.

Ought she to tell? She knew she ought not, but Patricia urged again.

"And I was going to say we could each wear a blue ribbon on the third
buttonhole of our dominoes, so we'd know each other the minute we got
there. And, say," she continued, "have you ever been all over the stone
house?"

"Not