“Oh, I hope I'm not telling secrets,” Ida said; “but I met Keith Gordon and Bob Smith in town as I came on. They had a list and were taking subscriptions from all the young men. They had already enough put down to buy a house and lot. They say they are going to give you the swellest dance that was eyer heard of. Bob said that it simply had to surpass anything you'd been to in Augusta or Atlanta. Expense is not to be considered. The finest band in Chattanooga has already been engaged; the refreshments are to be brought from there by a caterer and a dozen expert waiters. A carload of flowers have been ordered. It is to open with a grand march.” Ida swung her hands and body comically to and fro as if in the cake walk, and bowed low. “Nobody is to be allowed to dance with you who hasn't an evening suit on, and _then_ only once. They are all crazy about you, Helen. I never could understand it. I've tried to copy the look you have in the eyes hundreds of times, but it won't have the slightest effect.” “There's only one explanation of it,” Miss Wimberley, another girl, remarked; “it is simply because she really likes them all.” “Well, I really do, as for that,” Helen said; “and I think it is awfully nice of them to give me such a dance. It's enough to turn a girl's head. Well, if Ida really is going to pull out my things, I'll go down-stairs and make you a lemonade.” Later in the afternoon the young ladies had all gone except Ida Tarpley, who lingered with Helen on the veranda. “I'm glad the girls didn't have the bad taste to embarrass you by questioning you about Mr. Sanders,” Ida said. “Of course, it is all over town. Uncle spoke of the possibility of it to some one and that put it afloat. I'm anxious to see him, Helen. I know he must be nice--everything, in fact, that a man ought to be, for you always had high ideals.” Helen flushed almost angrily, and she drew herself erect and stood quite rigid, looking at her cousin. “Ida,” she said, “I don't like what you have just said.” “Oh, dearest, I'm sorry, but I thought--” “That's the trouble about a small town,” Helen went on. “People take such liberties with you, and about the most delicate things. Down in Augusta my friends never would think of saying I was actually engaged to a man till it was announced. But here at home it is in every mouth before they have even seen the gentleman in question.” “But you really have been receiving constant attentions from Mr. Sanders for more than a year, haven't you, dear?” Miss Tarpley asked, blandly. “Yes, but what of that?” Helen retorted. “He and I are splendid friends. He has been very kind and thoughtful of my comfort, and I like him. He is noble, sincere, and good. He extended the sweetest sympathy to me when I went down there under my great grief, and I never can forget it, but, nevertheless, Ida, I have not promised to marry him.” “Oh, I see, it is not actually settled yet,” Miss Tarpley said. “Well, I'm glad. I'm very, very glad.”