After several dances they became optimistic over the future and finished their dinner with the understanding that at the first possible moment they would be married and Trudy was to be a hard-working little bride causing her husband's men friends to be nice to the Vondeplosshes, while husband would persuade the Gorgeous Girl to be nice to his wife. They decided, too, that Mary Faithful was clever and good--but queer. That Steve O'Valley would discover that a self-made man could not marry an heiress and make a go of it as well as a man of an aristocratic family could marry an adorable red-haired young lady and elevate her to his position. That Trudy was far more beautiful than Beatrice Constantine, and as one lived only once in this world--why not always strive for a good time? Whereat they had a farewell dance and moved on to the moving-picture world, where they held hands and stared vapidly at the films, repairing to a cafeteria on a side street for a lunch, and then to the Faithful parlour. Mary had gone to church, Luke had boy friends in to discuss a summer camp, and his mother snored mildly on the dining-room sofa. They took possession of the front parlour, and the enlarged crayons of the Faithful ancestors bore witness that for more than two hours these young people giggled over the comic supplement, debated as to the private life of the movie stars, tried new dance steps, and then planned how to get everything for nothing and, having done so, not to share their spoils. "A perfectly lovely time!" Trudy said, glibly, as she kissed Gay good-night. "Perfectly lovely!" he echoed, politely. "Don't work too hard to-morrow, Babseley, will you? And do nothing rash until you see me." "Call me up to-morrow at eight, Bubseley," she giggled. The pet names were of Gay's choice. So Bubseley tottered down the walk while Babseley turned out the lights and retired to her room with a bag of candy and a paprika-brand of novel. At midnight she tossed it aside and with self-pity prepared to go to sleep. "And I'll have to go to work to-morrow," she sighed, planning her next silk dress as she did up the Titian hair in curlers. CHAPTER III WHEN the world was considerably younger it dressed children in imitation of its adults--those awful headdresses and heavy stays, long skirts to trip up tender little feet, and jewelled collars to make tiny necks ache. Now that the world "is growing evil and the time is waxing late" the grown-ups have turned the tables and they dress like the children--witness thereof to be found in the costume of Aunt Belle Todd, Mark Constantine's sister, who had shared her brother's fortunes ever since his wife had been presented with the marble monument.