"It does," laughed Isobel back, her eyes shining. She was very happy, and when she was happy she was a gay, good-natured Isobel and a very beautiful Isobel. All through the school year her spirit had smarted under the prominence attained by her schoolmates in the various school activities--Ginny Cox was conspicuous in everything and on the honor roll, besides; Peggy Lee played hockey and basketball, Dorrie was in the Glee Club, Pat Everett was a lieutenant in her scout troop, Cora Stanton was editor of the school paper, Sheila Quinn was the class president--even Gyp was a sub on the all-school basketball team, and Jerry--since that day she had skied down Haskin's Hill _she_ had pushed her way into everything (that was the way Isobel thought of it); she played on the hockey team and had "subbed" on the sophomore basketball team and it was certain she would be picked on the swimming team. Though Isobel scorned all these activities because they were not "any fun," according to her creed, deep in her heart she had envied the girls who could enjoy them. But now her vanity was soothed and satisfied; anyone could play basketball or skate or swim, but no one could be the Hermia that _she_ was going to be! Miss Gray had complimented her upon the interpretation she gave the role and her eyes told her what she saw in Madame Seelye's mirror. And Dana King was playing Lysander--a fine Athenian lad he made. Isobel could afford now to forget the grudge she had nursed against him ever since the Christmas party. He looked so really grown-up that it pleased her to be a little shy with him, as though she had just met him--to forget that they had been schoolmates since kindergarten days. She read admiration in his eyes. What would he think, she said to herself, with a little flutter, when he saw the rose-pink costume? "Isobel Westley, what _fun_ to have a rehearsal every afternoon," had cried one of a group of girls which surrounded her. "Does Lysander walk home with Hermia every day?" asked another, with a meaning laugh. "Tell us all about it," coaxed Amy Mathers. "It's too romantic for anything." Isobel blushed and laughed and pushed them away. She knew that they all envied her--she _wanted_ them to envy her. She knew that anyone of them would gladly change places with her. Even Gyp and Jerry had sighed and begged their mother to help them get up some sort of a play in which they could take part. Gyp had asked Miss Gray to be allowed to help in the make-up room, even if she did nothing more than pass the little jars of cream and sticks of paint. And to Jerry had been assigned the especial task of shoving Puck, who was sadly rattle-brained, upon the stage, when the cues came. [Illustration: GYP, JERRY, TIBBY, EVEN GRAHAM, SUPERINTENDED ISOBEL'S PREPARATIONS FOR THE DRESS REHEARSAL]