“If you had to ask them, mother, Lent would have been the time. It just can’t be managed now. As a matter of fact I’ve practically asked Delia Underwood to spend three weeks here.” That was a lie and she knew her mother would know it, but it gave her mother a graceful way out of the difficulty. But unfortunately Mrs. Brownley did not seem to be looking for loop-holes. She sat serenely at her desk, her eye-glasses poised upon the bills she was auditing. “I think you will like Miss Thorstad,” she answered, ignoring all the protests. “You see it’s really quite important for me to have her here. The mother is a very clever little woman and with a possible political future. Miss Duffield thinks very highly of her. While we are doing this active campaign work she will be invaluable here in the city. She’s a good organizer--and she’s a plain woman. She can handle plain women, Miss Duffield insists, better than we can. I wish you girls would understand that there is a great deal involved in this campaign. If we stand well out here it will be important for the district--in Washington.” “Yes, mother--but why the daughter?” “For the simple reason that Mrs. Thorstad said she didn’t like to leave her at home alone. It put me in the position of having to ask her. She is, as I remember, a pretty well-appearing girl. Mrs. Flandon, whom you admire so much, Allie, was immensely taken with her. At any rate, they have been asked, they will accept and they arrive next week.” Allie looked dark. “Well, mother,” she said, with a fair imitation of her mother’s tone, “if you expect me to give up everything for the sake of this little Swede, you’re mistaken. The men will just howl when they see her.” “Cheer up, Allie,” said Barbara, “they may fall in love with her. Brunhilde, you know--and all of that. I think it’s a shame, mother.” The girls looked at each other. They weren’t ordinarily allies, but this mess was one they both would have to worry over. Their mother rose. “Of course, girls,” she said, “it is an inconvenience. But it’s a good thing to do. It means more than you may guess. Be nice to Miss Thorstad and you’ll not be sorry. It might mean that platinum bracelet for you, Barbara, and for Allie--” “Mother,” exclaimed Allie, “if I’m an angel to your little Swede would you let me have a new runabout--a Pierce, painted any color I like?” Her mother merely smiled at her but Allie knew her claim was good. She turned to her sister as her mother left the room. “She’s going to do it, Bobbie, and we might just as well get something out of it. I’ll tell the girls I’m getting my new car that way and they’ll all help. We’ll give little Miss Olson the time of her life.” “You get more out of it than I do, I notice.” Barbara was inspecting herself in the mirror of her vanity case from which she allowed nothing except sleep to separate her. “That’s all right, Bob. I’ll do most of the heavy work, I’ll bet.”