ecords. "There! I shall be sure to remember it was I
who--originated that. I'm sure it is going to be part of our plot!"

"And I guess," ventured Grace, "that they get the roots--for--well, for
hair tonic," she floundered. "Roots ought to be good for bald heads!"

"Hair roots would be, of course," put in Madaline, excusing a yawn,
"but I never saw them advertised."

"When I go in business I shall advertise real hair roots, planted on
bald heads. Satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded," quoted Grace.

"Anyone may have marvelous hair by applying Madame Gracia's hair
roots," added Cleo. "Just rub it on and watch it sprout! Well, we
will go over Second Mountain to-morrow morning, as Aunt Audrey is away,
and we will be left entirely to ourselves. But I must not forget very
first thing to write to mother. You know she and dad are going West
next week, and I may spend the entire summer with Aunt Audrey. You
girls are to stay as long as you like, for Flosston Mill magnates,
including both your fathers, may have to come to New York for
headquarters, and then all our families will leave Pennsylvania."

"Isn't that glorious!" Grace exclaimed. "I think it's a perfectly
splendid idea to have all our dads in the one firm. They can't do
anything to separate us," and she gave Cleo an appreciative hug.

"Don't forget to dress in uniform to-morrow," Cleo reminded her chums.
"We have had enough vacation from scouting I think. I'm really sick
for my old, practical self."

"Well, I renew my pledge every day, of course," Madaline declared.
"But I do feel lonely for my nice, tidy uniform. Do you suppose we
shall attract attention around here?"

"No, indeed," answered Cleo. "I saw a group of girls yesterday in
scout uniform. I suppose there is a troop here. But we don't have to
look it up unless we get still more lonely. Well, good night, girlies.
I am going to try the new dream pillow. Isn't it darling?" and she
pressed her cheek to the tiny heart-shaped down pillow, with its
embroidered motto case, the latest remembrance from her loving mother.

"We might make them for gifts," remarked Grace. "I think them too
sweet for words!"

"And that perfume is--orchid, isn't it?" asked Madaline. "It is too
delicate for anything else."

"Yes, momsey likes orchid, and dad buys it, so I guess that's her
sachet. Good-night again, girls, and to-morrow we go hunting our
wood-nymph; and, girls," with a premonitory perk of