ue to their femininity--should be persistent in inviting him
to be their partner was obvious enough.

"Because that's part of the skipping game, Bobby. I'd ask the girls
sometimes--and, do you know, I think it would be fine to ask some of
the little girls whom the other boys don't ask. Do you know any?"

Bob considered. "I guess I do. But why do I have to ask them?"

"Because they're not having as much fun as the others. You wouldn't like
never to be asked by anybody, would you?"

"I don't care 'bout any girls ever asking me," Bob insisted stoutly. "I
like boy games better--'circus' and 'grandfather's barn.' Only they let
the girls play those too," he added, disgustedly.

He started away. But he came back again to say, soberly, "I'll ask Jennie
Hobson, if you want me to, Aunt Ellen. She's some like a boy, anyway. Her
hair's cut tight to her head--and her eyes are funny. They don't look at
you the same."

"Do ask her, Bob. And tell me how she liked it." And Ellen looked
affectionately after the small, straight little figure trudging away
down the street.

Martha's plans for her reception went on merrily. On the day set she came
hurrying over before breakfast, to administer to her brother-in-law a
final admonition concerning the coming evening.

"I hope this isn't going to be the busiest day of your life?" she urged
Burns.

"It's bound to be,--getting things clear for to-night," he assured her,
good-humouredly.

"Promise me you won't let anything short of a case of life or death keep
you away?"

"It's as serious as that, is it? All right, I'll be on hand, unless the
heavens fall."

He was good as his word, and at the appointed hour his hostess, keeping
an agitated watch on her neighbour's house, saw him arrive, in plenty of
time to dress. She drew a relieved breath.

"I didn't expect it," she said to James Macauley, her husband.

"Oh, Red's game. He won't run away from this, much as he hates it. Like
the rest of us married men, he knows when dodging positively won't do,"
and Macauley sighed as he settled his tie before the reception-room
mirror, obtaining a view of himself with some difficulty, on account of
the towering masses of flowers and foliage which obscured the glass.

When Burns and Ellen came across the lawn, Martha flew to meet them.

"You splendid people! Who wouldn't want to have a reception for such a
pair?"

"We flatter ourselves we do look pretty fine," Burns admitted, eying his
wife