"Somebody open the gate," requested Mabel. "I can't touch things." "Everybody stand up straight," commanded Marjory. "We must look our best when we go up the walk." "I wish I hadn't come," demurred Bettie, hanging back, diffidently. "Let's wait till it's darker." "No," asserted Jean. "We'd better get it over." "Yes," agreed Mabel, "I don't want to wear these gloves a minute longer than I have to." "All right," sighed Bettie, despondently, "but you go first, Jean." They had waited on the imposing doorstep for a long five minutes when it occurred to Marjory to ask if any one had pushed the bell. "No," replied Jean, with a surprised air. "I thought _you_ had." "And I," said Bettie, "supposed that Mabel had." "How could I," demanded Mabel, hotly, "in these gloves?" And then, all four began to giggle. Never before had such an inopportune fit of helpless, hysterical giggling seized the Cottagers. No one could stop. Tears rolled down Mabel's plump cheeks, and, fettered by her lemon-colored gloves, she had to let them roll, until Bettie wiped them away. And that set them all off again. In the midst of it Marjory's sharp elbow inadvertently struck the push-bell and Simmons, the imposing, much-dreaded butler, opened the door. Instantly the giggling ceased. Four exceedingly solemn little girls filed into the big hall. Bettie groped nervously for her pocket, found it and endeavored to extract the cards. But the large, stiff envelope stuck and, for a long, embarrassing moment, Bettie fumbled in vain; while the butler, his chin "very high and scornful" as Marjory said afterwards, waited. At last the cards were out. Diffident Bettie dropped them, envelope and all, on the extended plate; but Jean deftly seized the envelope and shook out the cards. Next followed a most unhappy moment. Simmons was evidently expecting them to do _something_, they hadn't the remotest idea what. Then, to their great relief, there was a sudden "swish" of silken skirts, a flash of scarlet and lively Henrietta, who had slid down the broad banister, was greeting them warmly. "Grandmother's out," said she. "Come up to my room and have a real visit before she gets back. Simmons, just toddle down to the lower regions for some fruit and anything else you can find; send them up to my room." Something very like a smile flitted across Simmons's wooden countenance. Perhaps it amused him to be ordered to "toddle." "Do you like my new gown?" queried Henrietta, leading the way upstairs and flirting her accordion-pleated skirts in graceful fashion. "It's my dinner dress. I have to dress for dinner every night--such a fuss for just two of us. Come in here--this is my sitting-room." "How very odd," said Jean, finding her voice at last.