"Very good, very good, indeed;" but Francis looked uncomfortable and so he changed the subject. Presently she looked at him and asked:-- "Do you think things are ever like they are in books? Do you think this is? She waved her hand toward the music and the lights. In the books I have read--and the story papers--it all seems nicer than this and--and different. It is because I say that, that they all make fun of me and call me Queen Fan, and father says--" she paused, and a cold light gathered in her eyes. "He don't like it, so I don't say it much, now. He says it's all put on; but it ain't Everything does seem to turn out so different from what you expected--from the way you read about. I've not felt like I thought _maybe_ I should to-night because--because--" she stopped again. "Because why?" asked Avery, laughing a little. "Because I'm not a bit like the usual story-book prince you ought to have met and--?" She smiled, and Ettie made a droll little grimace. "No, it wasn't that at all. I've been thinking most all evening that it wasn't worth--that--" "Oh, she's worried," put in Ettie, "because she got her father to spend a dollar to bring her. She's afraid he'll throw it up to her afterward, and she thinks it won't pay for that, so it spoils the whole thing before he does it--just being afraid he will. But I tell her he won't, this time. I--" Francis' eyes had filled with tears of mortification, and Avery pretended not to have heard. He affected a deep interest in the music. "Do you know what it is they are playing now?" he asked, with his eyes fixed upon the musicians. "I thought at first that it was going to be--No, it is--Ton my word I can't recall it, and I ought to know what it is, too. The first time I ever heard it, I remember--" He turned toward where Francis had stood, but she was gone. "Why, what has become of Miss King?" he asked of the other girl. Ettie looked all about, laughed and wondered and chattered as gaily as a bird. "I expect she's gone home. She's the queerest you ever saw. I guess she didn't want me to say that about her pa. But it'll make him madder than anything if she has gone that way. He won't like it at all--an' I can't blame him. What's the use to be so different from other folks?" she inquired, sagely, and then she added, laughing: "I don't know as she is so different, either. We all hate things, but we pretend we don't. Don't you think it's better to pretend to like things, whether you do or not?" "No," replied Avery, beginning to look with surprise upon this small philosopher who had no conception of the worldly wisdom of her own philosophy. "I do," she said, laughing again. "It goes down better. Everybody likes you better. I've found that out already, and so I pretend to like everything. Of course I do like some of 'em, and some I don't, but it's just as easy to say you like 'em all." She laughed again, and kept time with her toe on the floor.