"All right, General, just as you say. But your graduating dress is very sweet and becoming, and I can wear my pink crêpe. It is a little worn under the arms, but my eyes-- Anyhow, as you say, the men won't pay any attention to our clothes." "I did not say any such thing. How _could_ we go, Rosalie? It is three miles out, and they go in cars--we haven't one, and we can't have a taxi, and we couldn't go alone anyhow." "I never thought of that." Rosalie puzzled over it a moment. "I have it! Mr. and Mrs. Andrieson will go, of course. And they have their grand big car, and they like us very much, indeed." "They aren't members--" "Oh, well, there are a few quite nice people that don't belong to us. And they are terribly proper, you know, and go everywhere." "But we can't ask to go with them." "Why, certainly not. We won't have to." Rosalie got up slowly. "I think I feel like taking a stroll. I am restless to-day. I shall just saunter down Lawn Street, and maybe Mrs. Andrieson will be on her front porch. She always stops me, if she is in sight." "You must not ask her--" "Oh, Doris, I never thought of such a thing. But she is sure to invite us to go with her when she knows we were asked. And so if father comes in while I am gone, you'd better have it out with him. There's a sweet little General." So nicely did Rosalie manage her meeting with Mrs. Andrieson that in less than an hour she was home with everything planned to her perfect satisfaction. Mrs. Andrieson was positively yearning to take them to the Country Club--it would be such fun to play chaperon to two pretty young girls. To Father Artman, one party was just like another--in his innocent eyes there was no difference between an Endeavor Social and a Country Club da--er, party--except that he had never been to the latter in person. And so it was entirely settled that they were to go, long before the General herself was at all convinced as to the propriety of it. And when she found Rosalie before the long mirror in her room, with the soft bands of lace at the throat of the pink dress tucked carefully underneath and out of sight, permitting a quite generous exposure of soft white throat and shoulder, Doris knew for sure that it was a great mistake. "Rosalie Problematic Artman," she said sternly. "We shall not go a step if that is your plan." Rosalie looked tenderly at the pink shoulder. "Doesn't it look nice, Doris?" Reluctantly she restored the bands to their proper place. "I look like a silly little grammar-school kid. But that is what we get for being preachers. Never mind. I certainly have good shoulders if ever--if ever--" "If ever what?" "If ever I do get a chance at the outside of the ministry," she said blithely. "But, of course, father would faint at the bare idea, though it is not really low even with the bands turned under--nothing at all like the dresses other women wear."