ugh the mail. On
opening the envelope the pieces of her own note fell out, with a half
sheet of paper containing the words, "Declined with thanks."

CHAPTER XII

A RECKLESS CHAUFFEUR

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and clear, with just enough frost in the
air to make one's blood tingle. It had been a mild fall, with a late
Indian summer, and only one or two snow flurries that had lasted but a
few hours. This was unusual for Oakdale, as winter generally came with a
rush before the middle of November, and treated the inhabitants of that
northern city to a taste of zero weather long before the Christmas
holidays.

It was with a light heart that Grace Harlowe ate her breakfast and
flitted about the house, putting a final touch here and there before
receiving her guests. Before eleven o'clock everything was finished, and
as she arranged the last flower in its vase she felt a little thrill of
pride as she looked about the pretty drawing room. Before going upstairs
to dress, she ran into the reception hall for the fourth time to feast
her eyes upon a huge bunch of tall chrysanthemums in the beautiful
Japanese vase that stood in the alcove under the stairs. They had come
about an hour before with a note from Tom Gray saying that he had
arrived in Oakdale that morning, had seen the boys and would be around
to help David and Reddy at the "girl convention," as he termed it.

Grace was overjoyed at the idea of seeing Tom Gray again. They had been
firm friends since her freshman year, and had entertained a wholesome,
boy-and-girl preference for each other untinged by any trace of foolish
sentimentality.

As she dressed for dinner, Grace felt perfectly happy except for one
thing. She still smarted a little at Eleanor's rude reply to her
invitation. She was one of those tender-hearted girls who disliked being
on bad terms with any one, and she really liked Eleanor still, in spite
of the fact that Eleanor did not in the least return the sentiment.

Grace sighed a little over the rebuff, and then completely forgot her
trouble as she donned the new gown that had just come from the
dressmaker. It was of Italian cloth in a beautiful shade of dark red,
made in one piece, with a yoke of red and gold net, and trimmed with
tiny enameled buttons. It fitted her straight, slender figure perfectly
and she decided that for once she had been wise in foregoing her
favorite blue and choosing red.

The party that evening was to be a s