It was Marie Jean, but transformed. She wore the trailing silk skirt, and a bodice of showy pink taffeta, but the heavy frizzes were gone. Her hair was parted as smoothly and evenly as Margaret's own, and the German braids lent new character to her face. She glanced in some surprise at Beatrice's simple grey-blue gown, and surveyed Miss Billy's scarlet waist with disapproval. The plain elegance of Margaret's tailor suit utterly escaped her, but her eyes brightened as she beheld Francis' pearl studs. "He's got a genuine swallow tail," she said to herself. "I'm glad I dressed up." "Come into the kitchen," announced the host, leading the way to the rear of the house. "This is the scene of our operations. Lindsay, how we are to manage such elegance as yours and Miss Marie Jean's, I don't see. You'll have to be aproned, each one of you." He handed Marie Jean and Margaret long gingham aprons, and then to the amusement of all proceeded to array Francis' six foot length in one of Bea's daintiest and most be-ruffled pinafores. "The gasoline stove is for the fudge, which you, John Thomas, will find already mixed, in the pantry," continued Ted. "The range is ready for the pancakes, which you, Francis, are to bake during your leisure moments this evening. In the meantime, we will try what fate has in store for us." There was a little thrill of expectation as Miss Billy and Theodore appeared, bearing a tub partly full of water, with a number of rosy cheeked apples floating on the surface. "Dive for your fate," commanded Ted. "The red apples are for the girls, the yellow ones for the boys. Your intended's name you'll find within." There was a dashing and splashing after the little buoys of fate, and even Beatrice and Marie Jean lost their dignity as the apples slipped time after time from the inviting crunch of their teeth. Margaret secured the first--a big red apple labelled "The Count," John Thomas drew "Miss Billy," and Ted made a wry face as he read "Myrtle Blanchard" on the yellow Baldwin that floated in his clutch. "Let's try the next test before we go to cooking," said Miss Billy, producing a tray which held seven miniature ships. Each was made of the half of an English walnut shell, and held an inch of wax taper in its tiny hold. "Choose your colour," directed the hostess, "and launch your ship on the sea of life. If the light burns steadily till the wax is all melted, and the boat rides the waves safely, you are assured a long and happy life. If two boats come together and continue to sail about side by side their owners will pass much of their life together. Two boats in collision means a quarrel. A boat that touches frequently at the sides of the tub predicts many short voyages for the owner, but a bold vessel that goes to the other side promises a life of adventure and travel. All aboard!" One by one the small crafts were launched on the sea, and the owners hung over the tub awaiting the result with eagerness.