"Oh, Doris, father was so excited about the bishop he forgot me," giggled Rosalie. "You said you were not coming home," said Doris indignantly. "I changed my mind. I have a class at eight in the morning, and I was afraid I might not make it. So I just phoned father to call for me in the car, and he told me to wait until he got there, and I did, but he forgot me." "The bishop came home with me, and--" "Don't I know it?" interrupted Doris hotly. "And I forgot Rosalie, and then when we got to bed I remembered. And the bishop was asleep so I slipped out, and--" "Good night," said Doris curtly, and stalked up the stairs like an offended Lady Macbeth. "Isn't she dramatic?" laughed Rosalie. "Would it shock the church if we put her on the stage?" "I wonder what happened? Well, let's go to bed, she'll be all right in the morning." "Aren't you hungry, 'fath'? Let's raid the pantry, shall we? That will be a good joke on Doris, to pay her for her airs." After the lunch they crept softly up-stairs to bed, and Rosalie kept up a pleasant chattering conversation which Doris met with unfriendly silence. What in the world would the bishop think of her? Whatever were they going to have for breakfast? Of course, father had always been free to bring people whenever he liked--but a bishop! Oh, well! The next morning she ran down-stairs very early, and took stock of the stores in the pantry. For the first time she almost wished she had chosen the cow instead of the car--real cream would cover so many breakfast shortages. Fortunately there was one can of peaches in the cellar--they were being saved for a special occasion, but nothing could be any more special than a bishop. They could not have oatmeal, for Rosalie and father had finished off the milk. There were three eggs--she might cook them for the bishop, and tell him the family was on diet--ridiculous! She might make pancakes--that would be ample excuse for Doris to remain in the kitchen, too, and although she was a social soul, she did not yearn to appear before that bishop, in spite of wondering whether he could truly be as young as he had looked in the moonlight in the middle of the night. She stirred up the batter with commendable zeal. "Doris," came an imperative call from Zee at the head of the stairs. "Oh, Doris!" And Zee's voice was shrill and penetrating. "Do--ris! Make Rosalie give back my blue ribbon--she borrowed it--and she can't!" "Ummmmmm," muttered Doris grimly. "Wouldn't that be sure to happen on a bishop morning?" She ran to the bottom of the stairs. "Rosalie, you can't borrow it if Zee won't lend it," she said softly, but in a determined voice. "But I am surprised that Zee would refuse--" "I didn't refuse," protested Zee. "I am always willing to lend things. But she did not ask. She just snitched it." "Zee, you must not say snitched." "She may borrow it, if she asks, and says please," said Zee.