me." A momentary
failure of lung-power forced her to a pause in which she perceived
Lydia's attire. She recoiled with a dramatic rush. "Oh, you've got one
of them _on_! Lydia, how insanely swell you do look! Why, Mrs.
Emery"--she turned to Lydia's mother with a light-hearted
unconsciousness that she had not addressed her before--"she doesn't look
_real_, does she!"

There was an instant's pause as the three women gazed ecstatically at
Lydia, who had again turned her back and was leaning her forehead
against the window. Then the girl sprang at her again. "Well, my
goodness, Lydia! I just love you to pieces, of course, but if we were of
the same complexion I should certainly put poison in your candy. As it
is, me so blonde and you so dark--I tell you what--what we won't do this
winter--" She ran up to her again, putting her arms around her neck from
behind and whispering in her ear.

Miss Burgess turned to her hostess with her sweet, motherly smile.
"Aren't girls the _dearest_ things?" she whispered. "I love to see them
so young, and full of their own little affairs. I think it's dreadful
nowadays how so many of them are allowed to get serious-minded."

Madeleine was saying to Lydia, "You sly little thing--to land Paul
before the season even began! Where are you going to get your lingerie?
Oh, _isn't_ it fun? If I go abroad I'll smuggle it back for you. You
haven't got your ring yet, I don't suppose? Make him make it a ruby.
That's ever so much sweller than that everlasting old diamond. He's
something to land, too, Paul is, if I do say it--not, of course, that
we've either of us got any money, but," she looked about the handsomely
furnished house, "you'll have lots, and Paul'll soon be making it hand
over fist--and I'll be marrying it!" She ended with a triumphant
pirouette her vision of the future, and encountered Madame Boyle,
entering with a white and gold evening wrap which sent her into another
paroxysm of admiration. The dressmaker had just begun to say that she
thought another line of gold braid around the neck would--when Mrs.
Emery, looking out of the window, declared the caterer to be approaching
and that she _must_ have aid from her subordinates before he should
enter. "I do _not_ want to have that old red lemonade and sweet crackers
everybody has, and slabs of ice-cream floating around on your plate.
Think quick, all of you! What kind of crackers can we have?"

"Animal crackers," suggested Madeleine, with