"Um, swell!" This was from Carol, Lark being less slangily inclined. "They have about sixteen rooms, and two maids--they call them 'girls'--and electric lights, and a private water supply, and--and--horses, and cows--oh, it's great! We've always been awfully fond of Jim. The nicest thing about him is that he always takes a girl home when he goes to class things and socials. I can't endure a fellow who walks home by himself. Jim always asks Larkie and me first, and if we are taken he gets some one else. Most boys, if they can't get first choice, pike off alone." "Here, Carol, you have my petticoat. This is yours. You broke the drawstring, and forgot--" "Oh, mercy, so I did. Here, auntie, pin it over for me, will you? I'll take the string along and put it in to-night." "Now, Carol," said Aunt Grace, smiling. "Be easy on him. He's so nice it would be a shame to--" Carol threw up her eyes in horror. "I am shocked," she cried. Then she dimpled. "But I wouldn't hurt Jim for anything. I'm very fond of him. Do you really think there are any--er--indications--" "Oh, I don't know anything about it. I'm just judging by the rest of the community." Lark was performing the really difficult feat of putting on and buttoning her slippers standing on one foot for the purpose and stooping low. Her face was flushed from the exertion. "Do you think he's crazy about you, Carol?" she inquired, rather seriously, and without looking up from the shoe she was so laboriously buttoning. "Oh, I don't know. There are a few circumstances which seem to point that way. Take that new gray suit for instance. Now you know yourself, Lark, he didn't need a new gray suit, and when a man gets a brand-new suit for no apparent reason, you can generally put it down that he's waxing romantic. Then there's his mother--she's begun telling me all his good points, and how cute he was when he was born, and she showed me one of his curls and a lot of his baby pictures--it made Jim wild when he came in and caught her at it, and she tells me how good he is and how much money he's got. That's pointed, very. But I must confess," she concluded candidly, "that Jim himself doesn't act very loverly." "He thinks lots of you, I know," said Lark, still seriously. "Whenever he's alone with me he praises you every minute of the time." "That's nothing. When he's alone with me he praises you all the time, too. Where's my hat, Lark? I'll bet Connie wore it, the little sinner! Now what shall I do?" "You left it in the barn yesterday,--don't you remember you hung it on the harness hook when we went out for eggs, and--" "Oh, so I did. There comes Connie now." Carol thrust her head out of the window. "Connie, run out to the barn and bring my hat, will you? It's on the harness hook. And hurry! Don't stop to ask questions, just trot along and do as you're told."