"For the advertising. It seems, a demonstrator for a special line of gas ranges used to go to Raleigh, that's Manny's old school, and, of course, when the salesman came in to sell and _we_ weren't buying," she was drawling her words to assume an imposing air, "of course," she continued, "he became deeply interested in our plans, and at once offered to send his friend, the lady demonstrator, out to make plans with Manny." "And we're to be demonstrated," chimed in Isabel, imitating Nancy's twang. "I choose pie. I want my picture 'took' curling the edge of a lemon meringue," and she executed a few very 'curly' steps to illustrate. There was no denying it. Nancy was happy on these the first days of her real vacation. It had been splendid, of course, to have twenty-five dollars of her very own to offer to advance Miss Manners, to clear up the rent worry, but the store had not been all fun, she was willing to admit that. "And do you know, girls," Nancy confided, "we, mother and I, had some doubts about the way Miss Townsend would take the news? Do sit down, Belle," she broke off. "How can I tell a story while you're doing hand-springs?" "These are flip-flaps," insisted Isabel. "Just watch this one." She was leaning with both hands on a long low bench, and the "flip" consisted of a violent spring of both feet from the ground. After bringing the feet down again with the unavoidable jerk, she performed the "flop" by pivoting around until she sat on the bench and stuck both her feet out straight in front of her. "It's very pretty," commented Nancy. "But if you want to hear my story you have got to flop. I insist upon a sitting audience." This demand restored comparative quiet and Nancy continued with her narrative. "I was telling you about Miss Townsend," she went on. "You just should see that lady. She's all 'set up.' We understood she was a nervous wreck--" "She was," interrupted Ruth, "but I heard mother say her brother's business affairs are being mysteriously adjusted. Maybe that's why she has become rejuvenated." "Yes, that's exactly it," snapped Nancy. "And how the great, grand trick worked is one of the stories we have missed. I never saw such a place as Long Leigh for floating stories that no one can explain. Miss Townsend talked all around her good luck, but never touched it. Of course, I couldn't be so rude--" "Of course _you_ couldn't," mocked Isabel. "Just the same," retorted Nancy, "I did ask right out straight, without hint or apology, where--Mr. Sanders lived." "And you got snubbed for your pains," flung in Ruth. "Nothing of the kind, I became informed for my pains," asserted Nancy. "Land sakes tell us!" pleaded Isabel. "First thing you know I'll hear our car, and miss the--mystery." "Well," began Nancy, deliberately and provokingly, "I asked her: 'Where does Mr. Sanders live?' And just as I was gulping hard to control my emoting emotions, Miss Townsend shook her necklace like a dinner bell, and said softly--"