Two hours later he came quietly back. Olive had gone out, as he knew. He crossed the room to the desk, searched and found the box into which he had seen the list put, and discovered, as he had expected, the invitations to the birthday party folded and partially addressed. He knew that they were to go out upon the morrow, and that Olive doubtless would finish the task of addressing them that evening. He had heard her bewailing the fact that this labour consumed so much time, but he had not cared to offer to assist her. Forrest looked the invitations over, smiling to himself, took out two unaddressed envelopes and put them into his pocket, closed the door and strolled away. In his own room he took them out again, and wrote upon them in his best hand, "Peter Bell, Esq.," and "Miss Jane Bell," adding the street and number, and stamping and sealing them, still with the laugh in the corners of his mischievous mouth. The next day, when Olive’s invitations went into the letter-box on the corner, they were shortly followed by two of which the giver of the party had no knowledge. It happened that the early morning mail in Gay Street always arrived just before the departure of the family workers for their place of business. So when Nancy, after answering the postman’s ring, came back to the table with the mail, both Peter and Jane, just finishing breakfast, were on hand to receive it. "Whose handwriting can this be, I wonder?" speculated Jane, intently studying the dashing address. Peter glanced over her shoulder. "Same as mine," he observed, ripping his envelope open. "Looks like a wedding invitation; but since none of our friends, Janey, are so much as thinking of getting married-- Hello, what’s this?" "Oh, why--" Jane was stammering, eagerly. "O Petey--how lovely--why-- There, I knew she was n’t as cold and proud as you thought her!" "Who--what?" demanded Nancy, with excitement. "Miss Olive Townsend," explained Jane, flushing with pleasure. "What! Miss Worthington Square invited you two every-day folks to her party?" Ross inquired, getting up from the table and reaching for his hat. "Pete, you ’ll lose your car if you stand mooning over that thing." "How did you know she was to have a party?" "Little Miss Shirley confided it to me." "Me, too!" cried Nancy, proudly. "But she did n’t tell me her sister would ask you." "Miss Olive probably didn’t intend to," hazarded Peter, folding up his note and putting it carefully in his pocket, "until she came to call and saw our charms. She came--she saw--we conquered--eh, Janey?--with our sweet smiles and our stories. How about it, sister? Do we go?" "If," began Jane slowly, the smile fading a little on her bright face, "if----"