"I'm not," protested Mabel, loyally. "She's just slow because she hasn't any little brothers and sisters. She's a _dear_ child." "Cheer up, Mabel," soothed Henrietta. "As long as she's beautiful she doesn't need to be bright." At this, Marjory looked at Jean, then at Bettie, and smiled an odd, significant smile. Here was a chance to get even with Henrietta; and, unconsciously, Mabel helped. "She's beautiful to me," said Mabel, "and she's ever so cunning." "What color are her eyes?" "Dark," said Marjory. "Darker than yours." "Then she's a brunette?" "Ye-es," said Marjory, as if considering the question. "She's darker, at least, than I am." "We all are," said Henrietta, with an admiring glance at Marjory's golden locks. "We seem to shade down gradually. Mabel comes next, then Jean, then Bettie; I'm the darkest, because Bettie's eyes are like brown velvet, but mine are black, like bits of hard coal. Where does Rosa Marie come in?" "I think," said Marjory, with an air of pondering deeply, "that Rosa Marie is almost, if not quite, as dark as you; even darker, perhaps. But her hair isn't as curly." "Dear little soul," breathed Henrietta, tenderly. "I've a tremendous liking for babies, but they're pretty scarce at our house. But there was one in England that was--Oh, if I could just see that English baby _now_! Wouldn't I just hug her!" Henrietta's eyes were unwontedly tender, her expression unusually sweet. "You're not a bit like you've been any of the other times," observed Bettie. "I like you a lot better when you're like this." "I'm not myself to-day," twinkled Henrietta. "I'm Sallie--just plain Sallie. But beware of me when I'm Frederika, the Disguised Duchess. _That's_ when I'm not to be trusted." "I think," said Jean, listening to some faraway sound, "that lunch is about ready." "Good!" exclaimed Henrietta. "The sooner it's over, the sooner I can hug that darling baby. It's months since I've held one in my arms--the dear little body." "You'll find----" began Mabel; but the other three promptly headed her off before she had time to explain that Rosa Marie was a pretty big armful. "It's time to go home," exclaimed Marjory and Bettie, in chorus. "Come on, Mabel." "If you'll excuse me," said Jean, speaking directly to Mabel, "I'll go set a place for Henrietta. Sorry I can't ask everybody to stay; but come back at two o'clock." CHAPTER XXI Getting Even LUNCHEON at Jean's that day proved a lively affair, for both boys were home; Henrietta chatted as frankly and as merrily as if she had known them all her life. Wallace, who was shy, squirmed uneasily at first and kept his eyes on his plate; but Roger, who had encountered the visitor in his French class, was able to respond to her friendly chatter. "I like boys," asserted Henrietta, frankly, "but I haven't any belonging to me but one and he's a horrid muff--sixteen and a regular baby. He's my cousin." "I thought you liked babies," laughed Jean.