“You ought to have heard some of the nice things Mother and Aunt Dulcie were saying about you two girls this afternoon. Here comes Kitty; doesn’t she look grand? I say, Kit, that dress is the most becoming thing you ever wore. Let’s go down and show ourselves to Mother and Aunt Dulcie before we put on our wraps.” Mr. and Mrs. Chester and Mrs. Cranston were awaiting the young people on the piazza, and ten minutes later they were all in the motor-boat, crossing to the opposite shore where stood the big hotel--a landmark for miles around. “What a lovely night it is,” remarked Mrs. Cranston, as the boat moved away from the pier. “I feel just like going to a party. I haven’t been to one in ages.” “I don’t believe you will ever grow old, Dulcie,” her brother-in-law said, smiling. “Molly and I have reached the age when dances rather bore us, except for the pleasure of watching our young people have a good time.” “I sometimes feel as if I were younger now than when I was twelve,” said Mrs. Cranston. “I used to think then that I had the cares of the world on my shoulders, with three younger sisters to look after. We didn’t have many parties in those days, did we, Molly? Do you remember our birthdays, and the queer presents we gave each other?” “Yes, indeed,” her sister answered, “and how wonderful the first Christmas seemed after Papa married again, and we went to live with him and Mama.” “Oh, do tell us about it,” urged Geraldine. “I love hearing about your experiences when you were little girls.” Mrs. Cranston laughed, and began a story, which lasted till they reached the landing. She was a great favorite with young people, and her stories, whether written or told, were always fascinating. “How gay The Griswold looks with all the lights,” said Geraldine, as they walked up the path to the hotel. “Just look at that line of automobiles. Everybody must be here.” “Listen to the music!” cried Kitty. “Doesn’t it sound gay? I want to begin dancing right off. Do you think it’s wicked to want to dance in war time, Mrs. Cranston?” “Not in the least,” Mrs. Cranston assured her, smilingly. “Young people should enjoy themselves while they can. Ah, here comes Steve. I was sure he would be looking for us.” Stephen was looking for them, and so were Jimmy Fairfax and several other young sailors, whose acquaintance the girls had made since coming to New London, and in a very few minutes they had all made their way to the ballroom, and even Geraldine had been provided with a partner. Gretel was fond of dancing, and moreover, she danced exceedingly well. Before the evening was half over, she had decided that she was having the “time of her life.” “I have hardly seen anything of you,” Stephen complained, coming up to her, where she stood fanning herself by his mother’s side. “I’ve looked for you several times, but you were always dancing. Have you a partner for the next?” Gretel admitted that she had not.