“Oh, yes, I guess so—I don’t know. I feel sort of loose inside, as though I weren’t connected. But I’ll feel better driving over. Oh, Virginia, talcum powder my ears. They’re perfect danger signals. _Is_ that a speckle on my neck? Oh, say it isn’t!” “Of course, it isn’t! It’s only a wee pimple. I’ll talcum powder it, too. There! You look just lovely! Shan’t I let the others in now? They’re cross as hops, because we’ve both been so secret, and we don’t want to rouse suspicion.” Priscilla assented, and Virginia unlocked the door to the house in general. “Too bad you’re so exclusive!” “Even if we’re not asked, we might see the fun of getting ready.” “You look perfectly heavenly, Priscilla!” “It’s a love of a dress!” “Mercy, Priscilla, what makes your ears so red?” “I’ll bet you’ve gotten them frost-bitten!” “They certainly look it!” “Your cheeks are red, too, but it’s becoming!” “What makes your eyes shine so?” Here the uneasy Virginia felt as though a reply were necessary. “Why, because she’s happy, of course. You act just like Red Riding Hood talking to the wolf, Dorothy.” Fortunately, just when inquiries were becoming too personal, Jean Blackmore entered, and claimed attention. “Jean, you’re actually pretty!” “You really are, Jean.” “Thank you. I’m sure that’s nice of you.” “That light green certainly is becoming. It makes you look like an apple-blossom.” “You lucky things! Wish we were going! Here’s the machine now, and Miss Wallace is calling.” They went down-stairs, the house following. “Oh, Miss Wallace, take your coat off and let us see! Oh, please do!” The obliging Miss Wallace complied. She really was charming in old blue, with half-blown, pale pink roses, Priscilla’s gift, at her waist. “Oh, Miss Wallace, you look just like a girl!” “You’re just beautiful, Miss Wallace!” “No one will think you’re a chaperon.” “They’ll all want to dance with you, Miss Wallace.” “Oh, girls, you’ll quite spoil me,” said the chaperon, and looked more charming than ever. “Come, girls. Priscilla, do raise your coat collar. I’m afraid you’ve caught cold. Jean, I insist, put on that scarf. Take care of the house, girls. Miss Baxter’s out. But I know you will. Good-night.” The car rolled away into the darkness, and the girls went up-stairs, talking things over as they went. “Isn’t Miss Wallace the sweetest thing?” “Something’s the matter with Priscilla. She wasn’t talking. What is it, Virginia?” “Oh, she’s excited, and perhaps—perhaps, she doesn’t feel exactly well.” Virginia felt more free, now that Priscilla was safely on her way. * * * * *