"You folks'll get money out of it; so shall we," Ellen went on.

"Everybody's so excited! I went down for the mail this afternoon and seemed to me 'most everybody was out in the street talking it over.

My! I'd hate to be her tonight."

"Why?" asked f.a.n.n.y shortly.

"Oh, I don't know. Everybody will be crowding around, asking questions and saying things.... Do you think she's pretty, Jim?"

"Pretty?" echoed the young man.

He shot a keen glance at Ellen Dix from under half-closed lids. The girl's big, black eyes were fixed full upon him; she was leaning forward, a suggestion of timid defiance in the poise of her head.

"Well, that depends," he said slowly. "No, I don't think she's _pretty_."

Ellen burst into a sudden trill of laughter.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "I supposed all the men--"

"But I do think she's beautiful," he finished calmly. "There's a difference, you know."

Ellen Dix tossed her head.

"Oh, is there?" she said airily. "Well, I don't even think she's pretty; do you, Fan?--with all that light hair, drawn back plain from her forehead, and those big, solemn eyes. But I guess she _thinks_ she's pretty, all right."

"She doesn't think anything about herself," said Jim doggedly. "She isn't that kind of a girl."

Ellen Dix bit a vexed exclamation short.

"I don't believe any of us know her very well," she said, after a pause. "You know what a gossip Lois Daggett is? Well, I met her and Mrs. Fulsom and Mrs. Whittle coming out of the Daggetts' house.

They'd been talking it over; when they saw me they stopped me to ask if I'd been to see Miss Orr, and when I said no, not yet, but I was going, Lois Daggett said, 'Well, I do hope she won't be quite so close-mouthed with you girls. When I asked her, real sympathizing, who she was wearing black for, she said she had lost a dear friend and never even told who it was!'"

Jim Dodge threw back his head and burst into a laugh.

"Served her right," he said.

"You mean Lois?"

"You didn't suppose I meant Miss Orr; did you?"

Jim's voice held a disdainful note which brought the hot color to Ellen's cheeks.

"I'm not so stupid as you seem to think, Jim Dodge," she said, with spirit.

"I never thought you were stupid, Ellen," he returned quickly. "Don't make a mistake and be so now."

Ellen gazed at him in hurt silence. She guessed at his meaning and it humiliated her girlish pride.

It was f.a.n.n.y who said somewhat impatiently: "I'm sure I can't think what you mean, Jim."

"Well, in my humble opinion, it would be downright stupid for you two girls to fool yourselves into disliking Lydia Orr. She'd like to be friends with everybody; why not give her a chance?"

Again Ellen did not reply; and again it was f.a.n.n.y who spoke the words that rose to her friend's lips unuttered:

"I can't see how you should know so much about Miss Orr, Jim."

"I don't myself," he returned good-humoredly. "But sometimes a man can see through a woman better--or at least more fair-mindedly than another woman. You see," he added, "there's no s.e.x jealousy in the way."

Both girls cried out in protest against this.

It wasn't so, they declared. He ought to be ashamed of himself! As for being _jealous_ of any one--f.a.n.n.y haughtily disclaimed the suggestion, with a bitterness which astonished her friend.

It was something of a relief to all three when the brilliantly illuminated house and grounds belonging to Mrs. Solomon Black came in view. j.a.panese lanterns in lavish abundance had been strung from tree to tree and outlined the piazza and the walk leading to the house.

"Doesn't it look lovely!" cried Ellen, scattering her vexation to the winds. "I never saw anything so pretty!"

Inside the house further surprises awaited them; the music of harp and violins stole pleasantly through the flower-scented rooms, which were softly lighted with shaded lamps the like of which Brookville had never seen before.

Mrs. Solomon Black, arrayed in a crisp blue taffeta, came bustling to meet them. But not before f.a.n.n.y's swift gaze had penetrated the a.s.sembled guests. Yes! there was Wesley Elliot's tall figure. He was talking to Mrs. Henry Daggett at the far end of the double parlors.

"Go right up stairs and lay off your things," urged their hostess hospitably. "Ladies to the right; gents to the left. I'm so glad you came, f.a.n.n.y. I'd begun to wonder--"

The girl's lip curled haughtily. The slight emphasis on the personal p.r.o.noun and the fervid squeeze of Mrs. Black's fat hand hurt her sore heart. But she smiled brilliantly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Black, I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!" she said coldly.

Chapter VII

"Does my hair look decent?" asked Ellen, as the two girls peered into the mirror together. "The dew does take the curl out so. It must be lovely to have naturally curly hair, like yours, f.a.n.n.y. It looks all the prettier for being damp and ruffled up."

f.a.n.n.y was pulling out the fluffy ma.s.ses of curling brown hair about her forehead.

"Your hair looks all right, Ellen," she said absent-mindedly.

She was wondering if Wesley Elliot would speak to her.

"I saw that Orr girl," whispered Ellen; "she's got on a white dress, all lace, and a black sash. She does look pretty, f.a.n.n.y; we'll have to acknowledge it."

"Ye-es," murmured f.a.n.n.y who was drawing on a pair of fresh white gloves.

"You aren't going to wear those gloves down stairs, are you, Fan? I haven't got any."

"My hands are all stained up with currant jelly," explained f.a.n.n.y hurriedly. "Your hands are real pretty, Ellen."

Ellen glanced down at her capable, brown hands, with their blunt finger-tips.