"I know----" Gyp's puzzled frown cleared magically. "Mother has five tickets for the Philadelphia Symphony to-morrow night--I'll ask her to let us go and invite Miss Gray to chaperone us. Then we'll write a note and tell this man that if he'll go to the concert and look at the third box on the left side he'll see the lady of his heart who has been faithful to him for years in spite of her many other suitors--we'll put that in to make him appreciate what he's getting. It'll be much easier writing it than saying it." "Gyp--you're a wonder," cried the others, inspired to action. "Let's go in and write the note now." The Ravens, who met now at Pat Everett's house, had neglected Miss Gray of late. Carnations had succeeded the violets, then a single rose. Pat had even experimented with a nosegay of everlastings which she had found in one of the department stores. It had been weeks since they had sent anything. For that reason a little feeling of remorse added enthusiasm now to their plotting. Mrs. Westley was delighted at Gyp's desire to hear the concert and to include Miss Gray in the party. And Miss Gray's face had flushed with genuine pleasure when Gyp invited her. "Everything's all ready," Gyp tapped across to Pat Everett, and Pat, nodding mysteriously, pulled from her pocket the corner of a pale blue envelope. Directly after the close of school Gyp and Pat, with Jerry and Peggy Lee close at their heels, to bolster their courage, walked briskly downtown to the Morse Building. If any doubts as to the propriety of their action crept into any one of the four minds, they were quickly dispelled--for the sake of sentiment. It, of course, would not be pleasant, facing this stranger, but any momentary discomfort was as nothing, considering that their act might mean many years of happiness for poor, starved, little Miss Gray! To avoid the leering elevator man the two girls climbed the six flights to the seventh floor. Pat carried the letter. Gyp agreed to go in first. "746--748----" read Pat. "It's the other corridor." They retraced their steps to the other side of the building. "784-788-792----" Gyp repeated the office numbers aloud. "7-9-6! _Wilbur Stratman, Undertaker!_" "_Pat Everett!_" Gyp clutched her chum's arm. "_A--undertaker!_ I _won't_ go in--for all the Miss Grays in the world!" Pat was seized with such a fit of giggling that she had difficulty in speaking, even in a whisper. "Isn't that _funny_? We've _got_ to go in. The girls are waiting--we'd never hear the _last_ of it! He can't bury us alive. Oh, d-dear----" She wadded her handkerchief to her lips and leaned against the wall. "If Miss Gray wants an undertaker she can _have_ him! For my part _I_ should think she'd rather have a policeman or--or the iceman! Come on----" Gyp's face was comical in its disgust. She turned the knob of the door.