You needn't keep asking how we know! Things that belong get together.
People who tell a story see round corners.

The next morning Maud Marchbanks came over, and asked us all to play
croquet and drink tea with them that evening, with the Goldthwaites
and the Haddens.

"We're growing very gay and multitudinous," she said, graciously.

"The midshipman's got home,--Harry Goldthwaite, you know."

Ruth was glad, then, that mother knew; she had the girls' pride in her
own keeping; there was no responsibility of telling or withholding.
But she was glad also that she had not gone last night.

When we went up stairs at bedtime, Rosamond asked Barbara the old,
inevitable question,--

"What have you got to wear, Barb, to-morrow night,--that's ready?"

And Barbara gave, in substance, the usual unperturbed answer, "Not a
dud!"

But Mrs. Holabird kept a garnet and white striped silk skirt on
purpose to lend to Barbara. If she had _given_ it, there would have
been the end. And among us there would generally be a muslin waist,
and perhaps an overskirt. Barbara said our "overskirts" were skirts
that were _over with_, before the new fashion came.

Barbara went to bed like a chicken, sure that in the big world
to-morrow there would be something that she could pick up.

It was a miserable plan, perhaps; but it _was_ one of our ways at
Westover.

CHAPTER III.

BETWIXT AND BETWEEN.

Three things came of the Marchbanks's party for us Holabirds.

Mrs. Van Alstyne took a great fancy to Rosamond.

Harry Goldthwaite put a new idea into Barbara's head.

And Ruth's little undeveloped plans, which the facile fingers were to
carry out, received a fresh and sudden impetus.

You have thus the three heads of the present chapter.

How could any one help taking a fancy to Rosamond Holabird? In the
first place, as Mrs. Van Alstyne said, there was the name,--"a making
for anybody"; for names do go a great way, notwithstanding
Shakespeare.

It made you think of everything springing and singing and blooming and
sweet. Its expression was "blossomy, nightingale-y"; atilt with glee
and grace. And that was the way she looked and seemed. If you spoke to
her suddenly, the head turned as a bird's does, with a small, shy,
all-alive movement; and the bright eye glanced up at you, ready to
catch electric meanings from your own. When she talked to you in
return, she talked all over; with quiet, refined radiations of life
and pleasure