“Yes,” and Judith swung a bit towards the aisle. “I have been watching her. She is working a family tree. Wonder for whose hope chest.” “I was surprised to know that mothers are now making samplers for their sons,” Jane followed. “Seems rather queer for boys to encroach on the girls’ fancies. I know a mother who has two boys, and she has a family sampler made for each. Also, she has a wonderfully stocked hope chest for them. Seems to me she must have had some difficulty in choosing the hopefuls.” “Suppose she made it all face cloths, and socks and neckties. But really, I don’t see what she could collect that would keep in style. A hope chest for boys! Ridiculous!” sneered Judith. “Some boys are very sentimental, you know,” Jane reminded her. “But mothers should not encourage such weakness,” protested Judith. “Well, I hope your boy has a chest full of—chocolates,” and Jane helped herself to the disappearing confection. “I haven’t had a chance to show you my new vanity case,” Judith broke in. “Don’t you think it pretty?” and she produced what looked like a little medicine emergency kit. It was of black stiff leather and made square, absolutely contrary in effect to the soft velvet pouches so long in vogue. “Oh, isn’t it lovely!” enthused Jane. “And such a mirror!” “Yes, I can almost see how my skirt hangs with it. I found it at a fair in Frisco. It was a prize sample. And, Jane dear, I have one for you, in a brown that matches your hair, but I was so disappointed that the initials were not on it, and I had to send it back. It will be ready, though, by the time we get to New York once again.” “Oh, how—wonderful!” and Jane squeezed the hand that still brushed the candy box. “Judy, I have held off from a ‘vanity’ because I have been too vain to invest in one. Do you know, I think, honestly, that when we deliberately ignore conventions we usually do it through pride? Too proud to depend on a traveling boudoir.” “Oh, no, dearie, not at all,” contradicted Judith. “Only, you can depend on your looks staying—regular Yale. There, that’s a joke. Jane Allen has Yale locks of copper and—iron. Warranted not to yield, nor break, nor open without the registered key. But I know, Janie, you will like your bag. I was no end disappointed not to bring it along with me.” “But it is rather nice to have one surprise saved,” Jane insisted. “We have been using up a lot of joys lately, don’t you think?” “Yes, we have been joying extravagantly,” agreed Judith. “But Wellington has a reserve stock, you know. Just think of our little Helka. Did we decide she had blue or gray eyes?” “Oh, they must be blue, we have too many grays,” Jane replied. “But what concerns me most of all is the adorable task of fitting her out in school togs. Wasn’t it lovely dad’s scholarship went to a real little—primitive? That is, I suppose she is unspoiled, although how do we know? She may not deign to look at us,” and Jane smiled at the incongruity.