rls ever take an interest in your clothes?" she asked,
wonderingly. She couldn't believe they were quite as indifferent to the
charming pictures they made in the very becoming hats and sporty
topcoats as they pretended.

"Poor, darling mother, we are interested," Lois protested, "but we're--"

"Fussed." Polly finished for her, looking decidedly self-conscious, as
she tilted her hat a tiny bit more over one ear.

Uncle Roddy and Dr. Farwell met them for luncheon, and then they heard
the plan.

"It's Bob's idea," Uncle Roddy explained, "and here's the schedule.
You," he was looking at Polly and Lois, "and Mrs. Farwell leave for
Boston this afternoon. Bob will meet you and take you to dinner, and
to-morrow you'll go to the game. Harvard plays Princeton."

"That's hard on you, Lois," Dr. Farwell laughed; he never stopped
teasing for one minute.

"What do you think about it, Tiddledewinks?" Uncle Roddy asked.

"It's a perfect plan," Polly said, enthusiastically. "I'm crazy to see
Bob. Isn't it a shame about his foot?"

The doctor looked grave.

"Yes, it's too bad; he was laid up for quite a while. Of course, it's
all right now, but he lost time, and he's had to make up a lot of work."

"Oh, of course." Polly suddenly realized that Bob's father was not
looking at it from quite the same angle that she was.

After luncheon they hurried to the hotel where the Farwells were
staying, repacked their bags and were back at the Grand Central in time
for their train.

Lois and Polly talked and planned ahead all the way to Boston. They
thoroughly enjoyed the coming fun in anticipation; but, of course, they
never guessed for a second that the real surprise was still ahead.

"There's Bob," Polly exclaimed, as they followed the porter through the
gates. "I can see him; he's way at the end of that line of people, and
Lois, look who's with him!"

Lois looked. A tall, heavily set fellow, with a very broad pair of
shoulders, was waving his hat.

"Frank Preston! Why how do you suppose--" But the rest of the sentence
was cut short by the meeting.

"Hello, Mother!" Bob began, "how are you?" He turned to the girls.
"Here's a friend of yours, Lo." Then he squeezed Polly's hand till it
hurt.

"How do you do, Mrs. Farwell?" Frank shook hands hurriedly and turned to
Lois.

"Isn't this bully luck? Gee, I'm glad to see you!" he said, eagerly.

Bob looked in admiration. He wished he had Frank's courage. Why he
couldn't even kiss