The three, on their way to school, had paused in front of Betty’s house, and she came out and joined them. It was late in October. The McGuires had been back in their city home for several weeks, and both Betty and Jack were in school again. “Do your ears burn, Betty?” asked Dorothy; as they two fell behind the other couple; “for we’ve been throwing the biggest sort of bouquets at you!” “They didn’t hit my ears,” said Betty, laughing. “What sort were they?” “Oh, we just said you’re a disagreeable old thing, and nobody loves you!” “Nothing of the sort!” cried honest Jeanette, turning her head. “We all agreed that you’re a general favorite and the boys like you better than they do any of the rest of us.” “Spare me blushes!” cried Betty. “Which of the boys confided this startling news to you?” “Of course we can see it,” said Lena, “but, to make sure, I asked Brother Bob. I said, says I, ‘Which girl do you like best of all our set?’ and he said, ‘Why, Betty, of course,—doesn’t everybody?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’” “Oh, Lena, you goose!” said Betty, but she was unable to repress a pleased smile at her friends’ talk. It was really true, Betty had become a prodigious favorite among the circle of Boston young people with whom she associated. She was so whole-souled and good-hearted, so ready to help everybody, so merry and full of fun, and withal so unostentatious and simple-mannered, that nobody could help liking her. And though only a little over sixteen years old, an innate spirit of coquetry had begun to show itself, and her dark, roguish eyes and dimpling smile often captivated the boys who belonged to what the school-girls called “our set.” Not that Betty was really romantic. Her coquetry was more mischievous than sentimental, and, though she loved to tease, her warm, generous nature never allowed the teasing to hurt the feelings of another. It was an open secret that both Harry Harper and Ralph Burnett were especial admirers of Betty, and, in an amicable, good-natured way, were rivals for her favor. But Betty was impartial, and at dancing-school or at the little “neighborhood parties” would accept attentions equally from both. However, Betty’s popularity was only a matter of degree, and gay, laughing Dorothy, lovely, quiet Jeanette, and pretty Lena Carey were also favorites in school and out. As the quartet walked along, Lena said: “I’ve a lovely secret to tell you, but as we’re almost at school now, I think I’ll leave it until recess.” “No, tell us now!” clamored the others. “My! but you’re curious!” teased Lena. “No, I won’t tell you now, but I’ll tell you part of it. Just enough to stir up your curiosity a little more. I’m going to have a party!” This was indeed interesting, but not another word would Lena tell, and so all the morning the three eager girls could only wonder what sort of a party it was to be, and how big, and when, and a thousand other important questions.