s even to a person of
my excellent and amiable qualities.

"There's a grain of comfort in store, thank goodness. Before many
weeks the Sempers will congregate together somewhere for a glorious
reunion. Elfreda has written me that you are soon to be in New York
City. I suppose the momentous question of 'Where shall we reunite?'
will be decided then."

Grace read on through page after page of the long letter, written in
Emma's most humorous vein. Finishing it at last, she gathered the
closely written sheets together with a happy little sigh. Good-natured,
fun-loving Emma Dean occupied a foremost place in her affections. Grace
wondered sometimes if the bond between them did not stretch as tightly
even as that between herself and Anne. Emma had been and always would be
the perfect comrade.

"You're next, Mabel," she murmured as she scanned the third envelope on
the scarcely depleted pile. "I suppose you are going to tell me
that----"

The loud purr of an automobile stopping before the house left Mabel's
message still unread. Depositing her wealth of correspondence on the
seat of the swing, Grace tripped down the steps and on down the walk.

"Good morning, dear Fairy Godmother," she greeted hospitably. "Good
morning, Tom. Something nice is going to happen. I can read it in your
faces."

"That depends on whatever your conception of 'nice' may be," returned
Tom mysteriously. Slipping from the driver's seat, he caught her
outstretched hand in both his own, his gray eyes alive with the light of
a joyful anticipation which Grace had been quick to catch.

"Good morning, my dear," called Mrs. Gray from the car. "Run in the
house and get your hat. We are bound on a most mysterious mission. You
are the third person needed to carry it out."

"I'll be with you in a moment." Turning, Grace hastened up the walk to
the house, wondering mightily what lay in store for her. "Mrs. Gray and
Tom are waiting outside for me in the automobile, Mother," she
announced, appearing suddenly on the shady back porch, where her mother
sat quietly hemstitching a table cloth for Grace's Hope Chest. "Come out
and see them."

Smiling to herself, Mrs. Harlowe laid aside her labor of love and
followed her daughter's impetuous lead. Catching up her broad-brimmed
Panama hat from the hall rack, Grace placed it on her head without
stopping to consult the hall mirror. Linking her arm in her mother's,
she towed her gently alo