Ellen’s only response was: “How pretty your dress is, Caro. It is mighty becoming, too. You’ll be the belle of the ball.” “Not if you are there.” “Which I shall not be, and it is nonsense to say I would be a belle if I were there. Florence would see to it that I played the part of wall flower.” “I’d like to see her try, then; not with Frank and Clyde and the other boys there. You are not going to be so cruel as to refuse to go, Ellen, when you know how disappointed I shall be, not to mention several others. You can wear your lovely crêpe de Chine that you look so perfectly dear in.” Just here a big red car dashed up to the door and Frank Ives sprang out. “I can’t go down,” declared Caro. “He wants to see you anyway, and I am not dressed. Go along.” There was nothing left to do but go, which Ellen did half reluctantly. For some reason she didn’t care to see Frank just then. It was evident, however, that he very much wanted to see her. “I came to apologize,” were his first words. “Flo didn’t know you were here till I told her, so that explains why you haven’t received an invitation to her party. If you don’t mind the informality of it, I am the bearer of a verbal invitation which we hope you will accept. I want to come for you, and please give me as many dances as you can. Please don’t say No. You will spoil my evening if you do.” With two persons asserting that the evening would be spoiled for them if she refused to attend the party, Ellen was obliged to give in, and sent Frank off in high feather. If she had but known, the invitation was entirely due to the stand he took in the matter, for he announced that he would not appear unless Ellen were there. “I’ll go and spend the evening with her,” he declared to his sister, “so count me out, Miss Snobby.” “I think you are perfectly horrid,” pouted Florence. “It’s my party, and I reckon I can invite who I choose.” “So you can,” retorted Frank, “but allee samee you can count me out, and I’d advise you to give an hour’s study to your grammar before you mingle in society.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Florence returned. “I reckon I can talk as good grammar as you or any of the boys.” Frank shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows as he turned to walk away. He had not reached the door before Florence called him back. “I never can have my own way,” she fumed. “What is it you want me to do?” “I want you to give me leave to invite Ellen in your name. I can make it all right with her, I think.” “What will you do for me if I consent?” “I’ll dance with that little foolish Suzanne Mills, or any one else you may select.” “All right, but Ellen is such a Priss.” “She is not at all. You don’t know her; she can be as jolly as the next, and stars! how she can sing.” “Oh, very well, go along and get your little red-headed missy, only don’t expect me to fall on her neck.” “You’ll have to be decently polite; that’s all I ask. I’ll see that she has a good time, so I should worry.”