“If _Miss_ Parrish doesn’t join you, I will later.” “All right,” I responded, “but I won’t have a fire--” “I should think you’d _die_ without one,” said Viola, pityingly. “I get along all right,” I answered, shortly, because it seemed to me that Viola had better get along without a fire herself--a scuttle of coal cost about thirty cents, and the kindling that started it, ten--instead of shivering for me, _while_ she badgered her father for money that she confessed wouldn’t be easy for him to spare. “Don’t be angry,” she called after me. “I’m not angry,” I replied. “Well, you acted it. . . . Funny holiday, isn’t it? Just sitting in our rooms. No parties or anything--” “We could have one if you and Leslie wouldn’t hitch at it, and spoil everything,” I responded. “We could get a nice one up--” “Well, I’m willing to fly the white flag that evening,” she stated with an indifference I felt that she put on. But that made the party possible, for I saw how it might be managed and I hurried right on to Leslie’s room to find her lying down on her bed and staring up at a sky blue ceiling that had gilt stars painted on it. “Look here,” I said, as I shut the door after myself, “I think we ought to have a party, a Christmas party, but we can’t unless you and Viola stop scrapping for the evening. She said she would; will you?” Leslie sat up and drew her padded silk dressing gown around her, and then answered. “I am sure,” she said, “that I would act as I _always_ do. One’s personal feelings dare not be aired; I _assure_ you I _invariably_ exercise restraint--” “All right,” I answered and then I sat down on the edge of her bed, and we planned it. “Mr. Wake and Sam will come,” I said, after we had decided to buy those cracker things that pop and have paper caps in them, and Leslie had said she would donate some pastries and some French chocolates. “Mr. Wake would be fearfully bored,” she objected. “I don’t believe it,” I disagreed. “But with Miss Meek and Miss Bannister and Mr. Hemmingway? For of course if we have it here we’ll have to ask the old things!” “Probably it’ll be the first party they’ve been to in years,” I stated, and I saw that Leslie felt a little mean. “Well, I’d tell him that the whole institution will be on board,” she advised, and I said I would. “Beata would serve,” said Leslie, who seemed to have a lot of head about planning the refreshments and how they should be brought on. “And she’d like it,” I commented, “probably it’ll help her out.” “What’s the matter with her, any way?” Leslie asked, and I’d told Leslie about forty times, but I told her once again. “How much does she need?” she asked, as she lay back and again looked up at the ceiling. “I think about seventy-five dollars,” I answered. Leslie laughed in a queer, unhappy way. “Fancy it’s being as simple as that!” she murmured in an undertone.