Ellen could not meet this exuberance with like enthusiasm, but she responded as well as she could, and went in to the excellent dinner, Caro’s arm embracing her waist, and Mrs. Rowe ready with a hearty welcome. There were a good many New Year’s callers that afternoon and evening, for Marshville was still old-fashioned enough to keep up this custom, and Ellen found herself called upon to be chief entertainer, as every one demanded a full account of her visit to the city. She must exhibit the miniature of her mother, the crystal beads, and the rest of her gifts to the satisfaction and admiration of her girl friends, so really she quite enjoyed herself, and was not so cast down as she had expected to be. “What clever, clever friends you have,” sighed Sally Cooper, “painters and musicians and all that. Do any of them compose, Ellen?” Ellen looked puzzled. “Do you mean write music?” “No, I meant do they compose stories, novels, and things?” Ellen bit her lip and glanced across the room at Clyde Fawcett, who grinned an appreciation of Sally’s would-be elegance. “I believe some of those I met do write. I know one or two are journalists and others are contributors to the magazines,” was the answer. “How wonderful!” sighed Sally. “I expect we seem very commonplace to you. That Christmas Eve party must have been such fun, and wasn’t it romantic to talk all evening to the boy who blacked up, and never find out what he looked like?” “I’ll bet he looked like an ape,” broke in Frank Ives gruffly. Frank, by the way, had brought Ellen an ornate box of candy, large in size and delectable as to contents. She was glad to pass it around, and one may be sure that there was not much left by the time the evening was over. “You must be worn to a frazzle, you poor darling,” said Caro as the door closed after the last guest. “You haven’t had a moment for rest. Now please sleep as late as you feel like in the morning and I’ll bring up your breakfast.” “You are a dear, thoughtful thing, Caro,” said Ellen, bestowing a kiss upon her friend’s glowing cheek. “I don’t expect to sleep late, for I promised Cousin Rindy that I would go over to the house and get some things to take out to her, and your father says we shall go as soon as his office hours are over.” “Need you go? Dad could take them.” “Oh, but I must go. I want to see Cousin Rindy, and she would be so disappointed if I failed to come.” “Well, I am not going to keep you up. I want you to go right to sleep.” This remark showed great consideration on Caro’s part, for she had been counting on one of those confidential talks which girls so love to indulge in at bedtime, but her love rose above her desire, and she left her friend without the prolonged good-night that would have pleased her.