Kent was there. He had brought the pink organdy. He waved a gay hand to Lydia, who waved back, gaily too. Her cheeks were beginning to burn scarlet, partly because a real party was a wonderful thing and partly because of the multi-colored organdies. Charlie Jackson was there. He lived with Dr. Fulton as office boy and general helper and the doctor was clothing and educating him. Charlie was half-back of the school football team, a famous player and a great favorite. The girls flirted with him. The boys were jealous of his favor. Even in the snob-ridden High School there was here a hangover of the pure democracy of childhood. Miss Towne had provided games and refreshments bountifully. The elocution teacher recited some monologues and the music teacher sang. But it was a difficult matter to entertain these youngsters already accustomed to a grown up social life. Miss Towne had declared that there should be no dancing. But the games were neglected and the guests stood about in frankly bored groups. So when a bevy of organdies begged for permission to dance, Miss Towne, with obvious reluctance, gave in. From that moment, the party was an assured success. Lydia, who had stuck like a little burr at Miss Towne's side all the evening, looked on with wonder and a growing lump in her throat. "Don't you dance, my dear?" asked Mrs. Towne. "Of course she doesn't, Mother," answered Miss Towne, "she's just a child. There's time enough for those things after High School. I don't know what's going to become of this generation." This was small comfort to Lydia, watching the pretty groups twirl by. Kent, hugging the pink organdy, stopped on the far side of the room from Lydia to get a drink of lemonade. "Isn't Lydia's dress a scream," said Olga. "Huh?" asked Kent in surprise. He followed his partner's glance across the room. CHAPTER VI THE COOKING CLASS "We pines have been useful to man and so he has destroyed us."--_The Murmuring Pine_. Lydia with parted lips and big, wistful eyes stood quietly beside Miss Towne. "What you giving us," said Kent. "Red's my favorite color." "Red's all right," Olga tossed her head, "but that dress! She ought to know better. A five cent cheese cloth would have been better'n that." Kent was truly enamored of pretty Olga but he looked at her angrily. "You girls make me sick," he grunted and started dodging among the dancers, across the room to Lydia's side. Olga stood pouting. "What's the matter?" asked Charlie Jackson. "Oh, I just said Lydia's dress was a fright and Kent went off mad." Charlie in turn stared at Lydia. Kent in the meantime was grinning at Lydia amiably. "Hello, Lyd! Want to dance?" "I can't. Don't know how," replied Lydia, despondently. "Easy as anything. Come on, I'll teach you." Lydia seized Kent's lapel with fingers that would tremble slightly. "Kent, I dassn't stir. My back breadth don't match and my skirt hangs awful."