"That would simplify everything ... if we lived in fairy-tale times. Oh, dear, there are no fairies nowadays, and I wonder how in the world I am to get home." "You have the pumpkins and the mice." "Only the pumpkins; it is after twelve, and all the mice have gone home." "Haven't you an incantation?" She stretched out her arms dramatically. "Be gone, young man, be gone!" "Very good," said I; "but I am impervious to incantations of that sort." "I wonder where the other Cinderella is?"--adroitly. It was quite evident that she wanted to be rid of me. If I hadn't met Nancy--! "Supposing I try this white slipper on your foot?" "It is not a supposable matter." "Would that I possessed a cobbler's license!"--sighing. She laughed. "You wouldn't be half so nice." This was almost the beginning of an enchantment. "If you will turn your head toward the wall I'll try on the slipper. I am curious to learn if there is a girl here who has a smaller foot than I." "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!" "'Tisn't vanity; it's curiosity; and maybe my foot is getting cold." I took some pillows and piled them on the floor. "How will this do?" "Since I can not have the slipper I shall not move. Besides, I am sitting on the unshod foot. Hadn't you better sit down here beside me and give an account of yourself and what you have been doing all these ten years?" "You know me?" genuinely astonished. "But you do not know me?" "No; it's a terrible thing to admit, but I do not recognize you." "Don't you remember Betty Lee?" "Betty Lee? That homely little girl turned into a goddess? Small wonder that I didn't recognize you." "My girl friends all say that I haven't changed a bit in ten years." "Envy, malice, jealousy! But it is odd that you should recognize me and that Nancy Marsden should forget me." "I used to detest you; we forget only those we loved." Enter one of the pumpkins, a young fellow about twenty. Hang it, I was always being interrupted by some callow youth! "Here's your confounded shoe, Bett. I've had a deuce of a time finding it." He tossed the slipper cavalierly into her lap. "Young man," said I severely, "you will never succeed with the ladies." "The lady happens to be my sister,"--haughtily. "Pardon me!"--contritely. "I should have remembered that sisters don't belong." The girl laughed and pushed out one of the pillows. Then she gave me the slipper. "We'll not haggle over a cobbler's license," she said. I knelt and put on the slipper. Only one thing marred the completeness of my happiness: the slipper wasn't a blue one. The girl stood up and shook the folds in her dress, then turned coldly on her brother. "You are a disgrace to the family, Bob." "Oh, fudge! Come on along to supper; it's ready, and I'm half starved." Brothers don't belong, either. "I wish you luck with the white slipper," said Betty, as she turned to leave. "Call on me soon, and I'll forgive all the past."