Fleurette in it!"

"And if you want such things," Azalea went on, losing her diffidence,
"I can get a lot of Indian things from home,--baskets,--you know,--and
leather, and beaded things."

"Fine, Zaly!" and Elise smiled at her. "We do want those,--real
ones,--they always sell."

They went on planning, all working in harmony, and each full of
suggestions, which the others approved or criticised, in frank, friendly
fashion.

Then Janet appeared to call Azalea to the telephone, and the girl looked
up, surprised. She blushed scarlet, and hurried from the room.

"Who could have called her?" said Elise; "she doesn't know any one you
don't know,--does she, Patty?"

"No; but she knows lots of our friends. Somebody is probably asking her
to go somewhere."

None of them tried to listen, but the telephone was in the next room and
Azalea's voice had a peculiar carrying quality that made it difficult
not to overhear snatches of her conversation.

"No," she exclaimed, positively, "I can't do it! I really can't! I'm
sorry it didn't go right, but I _can't_ do it again! It's impossible!"

A pause, and then, again, "No, I simply can't! Don't ask me--yes, of
course,--I know,--but, you see, they said,--oh, I can't tell you
now,--I'll write,--well, yes, I'll do _that_!--Oh, of course, _I'll_ be
there--but the--the other one--no, no, no!"

These remarks were at long intervals and disconnected, but they were
clearly heard by the three in the next room, and though no one mentioned
it, each thought it a strange conversation for Azalea to take part in.

Patty listened thoughtfully, feeling no hesitation in doing so, for she
had only Azalea's good at heart and wanted to know anything that might
help her understand the mystery that was certainly attached to the girl.

In the first place to whom could Azalea possibly be talking in that
fashion? Moreover, her voice was troubled, and her tone was one of
nervous apprehension and anxiety.

At last she returned to the group, and Patty said, pleasantly, "Who's
your friend, Zaly?"

"Nobody in particular," and Azalea looked as if that were a question she
had been dreading.

"You mean not a particular friend; but who was it?" Patty was
persistent, even at risk of rousing Azalea's wrath, for she felt
she must know.

"I won't tell you!" Azalea cried, stormily. "It's nobody's business if
I answer a telephone call. I don't ask you who it is, every time _you_
telephone!"

"All right, Zal