"That's supposed to be English, but I don't believe it. Anyhow, it isn't Cleveland," said Connie flatly. "Well, he'd think we were awfully cheap and hard up, and Andy Hedges, Senior, would pity father, and maybe send him ten dollars, and--no, we've got to have a maid!" "We might get Mamie Sickey," suggested Lark. "She's so ugly." "Or Fay Greer," interposed Aunt Grace. "She'd spill the soup." "Then there's nobody but Ada Lone," decided Connie. "She hasn't anything fit to wear," objected Carol. "Of whom were you thinking, Carol?" asked her aunt, moving uneasily in her chair. Carol flung herself at her aunt's knees. "Me!" she cried. "As usual?" Connie ejaculated dryly. "Oh, Carol," wailed Lark, "we can't think of things to talk about when you aren't there to keep us stirred up." "I'm beginning to see daylight," said Connie. She looked speculatively at Lark. "Well, it's not half bad, Carol, and I apologize." "Don't you think it is a glorious idea, Connie?" cried Carol rapturously. "Yes, I think it is." Carol caught her sister's hand. Here was an ally worth having. "You know how sensible Connie is, auntie. She sees how utterly preposterous it would be to think of entertaining a millionaire's son without a maid." "You're too pretty," protested Lark. "He'd try to kiss you." "'Oh, no, sir, oh, please, sir,'" simpered Carol, with an adorable curtesy, "'you'd better wait for the ladies, sir.'" "Oh, Carol, I think you're awful," said their aunt unhappily. "I know your father won't like it." "Like it? He'll love it. Won't he, Connie?" "Well, I'm not sure he'll be crazy about it, but it'll be all over when he gets home," said Connie. "And you're very much in favor of it, aren't you, Connie precious?" "Yes, I am." Connie looked at Lark critically again. "We must get Lark some bright flowers to wear with the silver dress--sweet peas would be good. But I won't pay for them, and you can put that down right now." "But what's the idea?" mourned Lark. "What's the sense in it? Father said to be good to him, and you know I can't think of things to say to a millionaire's son. Oh, Carol, don't be so mean." "You must practise up. You must be girlish, and light-hearted, and ingenuous, you know. That'll be very effective." "You do it, Carol. Let me be the maid. You're lots more effective than I am." But Carol stood firm, and the others yielded to her persuasions. They didn't approve, they didn't sanction, but they did get enthusiastic, and a merrier houseful of masqueraders was never found than that. Even Aunt Grace allowed her qualms to be quieted and entered into her part as semi-invalid auntie with genuine zest.