It was a pleasant invitation, but Martha stammered so and seemed so nervous about it that Irene hesitated before replying. Betty hesitated, too, for she knew that Martha had little, if any, spending-money, and she wondered at this unexpected hospitality. But Martha turned pleading eyes upon her. “Make them come, Betty!” she said. “I’d be so glad if they would.” “Come on, girls,” said Betty. “Indeed, Martha, we’re very glad to accept your invitation; it’s so warm and dusty.” Dorothy, though mystified at Martha’s sudden rôle of Lady Bountiful, took her cue from Betty and said: “Oh, how lovely! I’m just famishing for ice-cream.” The others accepted gracefully, too, and they all went into the latticed inclosure where ice-cream was sold. There were many little tables and chairs, and pushing two tables together, the girls all sat round, and Martha asked each one to choose her favorite flavor. Martha looked very happy and a little excited; her cheeks were red and her eyes bright, and Betty thought she had never seen her look so pretty. “Aren’t we having a good time?” said Ethel Caswell, as they slowly ate the refreshing dainty. “Yes, indeed,” said Maude Miller. “It’s my turn to treat next. Let’s come down here again to-morrow morning, and I’ll buy the ice-cream.” “All right,” agreed the others, and Betty and Dorothy secretly resolved to find some pleasant way to do their share of the “treating.” Martha beamed with pleasure to think she had been the one to start a round of merry times, and, as an additional touch to their present feast, she ordered some small cakes. Betty and Dorothy looked frankly astonished, for it was an expensive little place, and they wondered if Martha knew how much her “spread” would cost. But Martha smiled so gaily that they couldn’t offer any remonstrance, and the pretty cakes were brought and enjoyed by all. When at last the little feast was over, the check was brought and handed to Martha. Betty didn’t see the amount, but she saw that again Martha turned scarlet and looked embarrassed. But, with an air of endeavoring to look unconcerned, she drew a crisp, new five-dollar bill from her purse, and then, receiving her change, she put it away with the same elaborate carelessness, not stopping to separate the notes from the silver. “Whatever is the matter with Martha?” thought Betty. “She’s trying to act a part, I think.” Back walked the merry half-dozen girls to beautiful Halstead House, and grouped themselves on the veranda to wait for dinner-time. “Let’s build air-castles,” said Irene. “What would yours be, Betty?” “Do you mean that _could_ be real, or _couldn’t_?” “Yes, that could be real, but aren’t likely to be, you know.” “Yes, I know,” said Betty, promptly. “Well, I’d be a princess, with golden hair all twined with pearls; and a long white satin train, with little page-boys holding it; and slaves fanning me with long peacock-feather fans.”