The wrinkles disappeared from between Miss Billy's eyes and she laughed outright. "It's funny, anyhow," she declared. "And you're in an awful position. I don't see how you are going to wriggle out of it now. The girls have such confidence in you by this time,--and Brown's sodas are the best in town, if they do come high." Theodore whistled through his closed teeth. "Laugh away, Miss Billy. Add every grain of discomfort you can. But I'll wriggle out of it sooner than you think. The one thing that worries me is the fear that I'll have to put my hand down into father's pocket for my new shoes--for that's what it amounts to. Of course I can pay him back in a few weeks, but I hate to ask him for it just now." "I'll lend you my Christmas gold piece,--I'd love to, Ted." "Well, I should say not. I haven't come to the place yet where I borrow from girls. And these shoes will be sandals before I borrow from father, either. But you're a good fellow, Miss Billy." Miss Billy's face beamed, and she gave her brother's arm an affectionate squeeze as they parted at the school door. "Every dark cloud has a silver lining," she whispered comfortingly. "I wish my pocket had," responded Theodore gloomily. "Good-bye. Look out you don't flunk in your Latin to-day." * * * * * The rain that had threatened all day held off, and Miss Billy hurried home at four o'clock to plant her geraniums. Beatrice, looking very cool and pretty in a blue dimity gown, stopped her in the hall and drew her into the dining room. "I'm glad you've come," she whispered. "The Blanchard girls are in the parlour making a farewell call before leaving for Europe. I want you to go in and entertain them while I get the Apollinaris water out of the refrigerator for a pine-apple frappé. Be nice and polite, dear, and shake hands with them. And do be careful what you say. Don't tell them how many rooms there are in the house, or how much rent we pay, or hint at economy in any way. Run along now,--there's a good sister." "I can't," objected Miss Billy. "I don't like those Blanchard girls, and I have to set my plants out." "Oh, please," begged Beatrice. "You must. They'll see everything if they are left so long alone. Tuck your hair-pins in and hurry along,--there's a dear." Very reluctantly Miss Billy made her way to the parlour. There was a rustle of silk skirts as the Blanchard girls rose to greet her. "How do you do?" said Miss Billy, in her best manner, making her voice and outstretched hand as cordial as possible. "So glad to find you in," drawled Miss Maude, with a shade of condescension in her manner. "We rode miles trying to find the place,--we had forgotten your address, you know,--and when we did find it,--what do you suppose?--it is the strangest coincidence,--why, Casey, our coachman, don't you know, moved out of this very house in April."