Considerable merriment arose over the extending and acceptance of the invitations. Poverty had not robbed the four young hostesses of a cheery, happy-go-lucky air that charmed their more affluent guests. For an hour the congenial company talked and laughed as only girls can. Kathie finally excusing herself, disappeared kitchenward, presently returning with a huge, brown pitcher of lemonade and a plate piled high with crisp little cakes, which she assured were of her own making. Needless to say, they disappeared with amazing rapidity, the guests loudly acclaiming their toothsome merits. "I'm glad you like them," declared Kathie, pink with pleasant confusion. "I took a course in cookery at a night school at home last year. I often used to make this kind of cakes for parties. I had lots of orders and made enough money to pay my tuition fees at Wellington for this year." "How splendid!" approved Jane. Her approval was echoed by the others. "I'm hoping, after I get acquainted here in college, to do a little of that sort of thing," confided Kathie rather shyly. "I could spare an hour or so a day to do it. Only I don't know how to go about it." "Would you--could you--would you care to make some for me, some day?" hesitated Jane. "They would be simply great if one were giving a spread." "Why, that's ever so kind in you," glowed Kathie. "When I just spoke of it I wasn't fishing for an order. I mentioned it before I thought." "It's a good thing you did. I'll order two dozen for my own special benefit the minute my check comes," laughed Judith. "I sha'n't give Jane Allen one. I'll sit in a corner of our room and gobble them all up." "I adore those cakes!" Adrienne clasped her small hands. "Would it then be possible that I might have some to-morrow? Perhaps two dozen? Ah, but I am not the greedy one. I will share with my friends, even most selfish Judy." This provoked a laugh at Judith's expense. So it was, however, that Kathie received her first order which she agreed to deliver the next day. As a matter of fact, she had been the only one to demur when Freda had announced that the Madison Hall girls were coming there that evening. She had advanced the argument that "those rich Madison Hall girls won't care to ask us to the dance when they see how poor we are." Now she wondered how she could ever have so misjudged such a delightful lot of girls. CHAPTER XIII THE EXPLANATION When at length the quintette of callers regretfully agreed that they must be getting back to the Hall, Freda said rather nervously: "Please don't go just yet. I--we--there is something we think we ought to tell you." "Very well, tell us," invited Judith gaily. She had an idea that the something might relate to the all-important question of gowns. If Freda were worrying over that, Judith proposed to dismiss the subject lightly. Precisely the same thought had occurred to Jane, who noted Freda's sudden flush and evident confusion.