A faint pang of jealousy, a vague sense of helplessness, seized upon Martie. He had been so cordially gay and delightful with her; would he be that with all the girls? Would Florence Frost, three years older than he, fall a victim to his charm as quickly as she, Martie, had fallen? Martie had mentioned Florence Frost this afternoon, and by subtle, instinctive, girlish reasoning had found consolation in his reply. "She's my sister's friend; she's awfully smart, you know--books and all that!" Rodney honestly felt an entire indifference to this admirable young neighbour, and Martie understood his remark as meaning exactly that. She went on with her patience, the particular game known as the "Idle Year." Sometimes Sally touched or mentioned a card. Sometimes, as a final problem presented itself, the girls consulted as to the wisdom of this play or that. Between games Martie shuffled vigorously, and they talked more freely. "I think he's crazy about you," said Sally. "Oh, Sally, don't be such a fool!" "I'm not fooling. Look at the way he turned back and walked with us, and he never took his eyes off you!" Sally, somewhat dashed for an instant by Martie's well-assumed scorn, gained confidence now, as the new radiance brightened her sister's face. "Why, Mart," she said boldly, "there is such a thing as love at first sight!" Love at first sight! Martie felt a sort of ecstatic suffocation at the words. An uncontrollable smile twitched at her mouth, she recommenced her game briskly. Her heart was dancing. "Lissun; do you suppose Ma would ever let us have a party here?" Martie presently ventured. Sally pursed her lips and shook a doubtful head. "Oh, but, Sally, I don't mean a real party, of course. Just about twenty--" Martie began. "Lemonade and cake?" Sally supplied. "Well--coffee and sandwiches, Rodney seemed to think. And punch." "Punch! Martie! You know Pa never would." "I don't see why not," Martie said discontentedly, slapping down her cards noisily. Sally spoke only the truth, yet it was an irritating truth, and Martie would have preferred a soothing lie. "What about music for dancing?" Sally asked, after a thoughtful interval. "Angela Baxter," Martie said with reviving hope. "But she charges two dollars; at least she did for the Baptist euchre." "Well--that's not so much!" "We could make those cute brown-bread sandwiches Rose had," Sally mused, warming to the possibility. "And use the Canton set. Nobody in town has china like ours, anyway!" "Oh, Sally," Martie was again fired, "we could have creamed chicken and sandwiches--that's all anybody ever wants! And it's so much sweller than messy sherbets and layer cake. And we could decorate the rooms with greens--" "Our rooms are lovely, anyway!" Sally stated with satisfaction.