"There are thirteen of us, and Amy won’t sit down at all. But it serves me right if my party’s spoiled, after treating you that way." Priscilla gulped. Peggy’s manner became less dignified. "You mean that there’s thirteen and you want me for the fourteenth." "Of course you won’t come. But it serves me right to have you say no." Priscilla bit her lip to keep from crying. Peggy threw a hurried glance at the mirror. "Will my hair do? I’ve got to change my dress, of course." "You’re going to do it?" Priscilla fairly screamed. "O, Peggy! You’re an angel. You can’t think how wretched I’ve been all the week, and how ashamed. O, you darling! Can you ever forgive me?" They rushed upstairs, their arms about each other’s waists. "Don’t make me cry," pleaded Peggy, gulping down a sob, "because I really mustn’t take time to wash my face, you know. I’ll wear my pink; I can get into that in a shake." It was only fifteen minutes after the hour named on the invitations, that Priscilla’s guests sat down to a very dainty and highly successful luncheon. "Do you know, I thought you weren’t coming," Blanche Estabrook said to Peggy as they took their seats. "I’m so sorry to be late and keep everybody waiting," Peggy answered with gentle regret, and that was all most of them knew about the belated invitation. But there was no doubt in the minds of any of the gay crowd that fourteen was a peculiarly lucky number, on any day of the month. *CHAPTER XVII* *ELAINE UPSETS TRADITION* Winter as a rule seems long to people in trouble. That year Elaine Marshall found it endless. The steady cold that set in early in January seemed to her relentless, almost vindictive. It was vain to tell herself that spring would return as always, that the branches of the willows by the river would become clouds of misty green, that violets would start in the woods beyond, and the strips of lawn along the Terrace would take on the hue of spring. Intellectually she knew all this to be true, but in her heart was the hopeless conviction that this winter would last forever. Elaine was having a hard time, and the hardest part of it all was that, however far she looked ahead, she could see no prospect of relief. Mrs. Marshall’s economy was of the inconsistent sort, noticeable in people who late in life have begun to realize the value of money. She scrimped over the pennies, and then threw away dollars for something which even to Elaine’s inexperience was plainly not indispensable. Things counted up incredibly. There was the coal bill, for example. Mrs. Marshall had said at first that the dealer must have made a mistake, and then, that he evidently gave short measure, and, finally, she had looked at her daughter with eyes half-frightened. "We can’t freeze, Elaine."