Sue Perriton's eye," drawled Marian. "Be careful
what you are about, Cecile. It all lies with the Perritons whether we
get into society this season or not."

"And that Mrs. Conroth who is with them," put in Prue. "_She_ is the
real thing--the link between the best of New York and Albany society.
Old family--away back to the patroons--so old she has to keep moth
balls hung in her family tree. My! if mother could once become the
familiar friend of miladi Conroth----"

"No such luck," groaned Marian. "After all's said and done, mother
can't forget the candy kitchen. She always looks to me, poor dear, as
though she had just been surreptitiously licking her fingers."

"We _do_ have the worst luck!" groaned the second sister. "There's
that Dot Johnson coming. Mother says daddy insists, and when I. Tapp
does put down his foot----Well!"

"We'll put her off on Fordy," suggested, the brighter-witted Cecile.
"She rather fancies Ford, I think."

"Dot Johnson!" chorused the older girls, in horror. "Not really?"
Marian continued. "The Johnsons are impossible."

"They've got more money than daddy has," said Prue.

"But they have no aspirations--none at all," murmured Marian, in
horror. "If Lawford married Dot Johnson it would be almost as bad as
his being mixed up with that picture actress."

"For him; not for us," said Prue promptly. "Of course, as far as the
Johnsons go, they are too respectable for anything. Poor Fordy!"

"Goodness!" snapped Cecile. "It's not all settled. The banns aren't
up."

The girls wheeled into the grounds surrounding the Tapp villa just as
Betty Gallup guided the _Merry Andrew_ to the dock and leaped ashore
with the mooring rope.

Tapp Point consisted of about five acres of bluff and sand. At great
expense the Taffy King had terraced the bluff and had made to grow
several blades of grass where none at all had been able to gain root
before.

The girls saw the queer-looking Betty Gallup helping their brother out
of the sloop.

"Say! something's happened to Ford, I guess," Cecile cried, stopping
the car short of the porte-cochere.

"Run down and see," commanded Marian languidly.

But Prue hopped out of the roadster and started down the path
immediately. She and Lawford still had a few things in common. Mutual
affection was one of them.

"What's happened to him?" she cried. "You're Mrs. Gallup, aren't you?"

"I'm Bet Gallup--yes. You run call up Doc Ambrose from over to