Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, come along, girls; it's none of our affair," said she, but Vera's words had aroused the curiosity of the others and they loitered beside her.

All unconscious of their spying, Alene and her friends went their way.

Instead of taking seats at one of the many little tables placed invitingly around, they stopped at the next counter. Alene unfastened the crimson bag and gravely searched within it.

"More show!" whispered Vera.

"Three Dill pickles, please; you need not wrap them up," said Alene, laying a nickle on the counter.

Then Vera made a hasty retreat amid the raillery of her friends.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE GARDEN PARTY

"Letters for the whole bunch!" cried Lafe Bonner, coming into the sitting-room on his return from the post-office. "Hugh Bonner, E--s--q--Esquimau--wonder why they call his nibs that? Master Donald Bonner, Master Roy Bonner, Little Claude Bonner, Master Walter Bonner and--" Lafe stammered and got very red when he saw the address 'Gen.

Lafayette Bonner.' "One for me, too," he continued hurriedly; "and last for Mrs. L. Bonner."

All the members of the family in reach took their letters, and Ivy, seated at her new writing desk in the corner next to the window, turned round expectantly, saying,

"Where's mine?"

Lafe held up his empty hands.

"You may search me! Somebody's forgotten this time!"

"Come here," commanded Ivy.

Lafe advanced, wearing a guileless expression until Ivy ran her hand into his empty coat pocket, and fumbling round, found a snug s.p.a.ce in the lining and brought forth the missing epistle.

"Of course I couldn't fool her in that," mused Lafe sheepishly, when he read the contents of his high t.i.tled note:

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO A

GARDEN PARTY AT THE TOWERS ON

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER THE FIRST.

HOURS 1:30 TO 8 P. M.

The opening of the mail, always an important event in the town, had proved a pleasantly exciting one that day.

There was a shower of white envelopes from the little square window.

Almost everyone who called received one or more, according to the number of children in the family; many regular inquirers who were never known to get even a circular, were at last rewarded, and proudly waved their little white banners so that all the world might see. The unusually large number of mail-bearing pedestrians gave Main Street a gala air.

Ivy, on watch at the window, hugged herself and smiled contentedly, for was she not one of the conspirators who, in league with the Post-office Department, had sent all those little white flags a-flutter through the town?

It was Mr. Dawson who had suggested the idea.

"You have enjoyed so many merry-makings at your friends' hands, don't you think it would be a good thing to make some return, Alene alanna?"

he inquired one evening, when they sat by the library table, he smoking a pipe as usual, while Alene finished a page of a daily journal which she sent each week to her parents.

She beamed at the questioner across the table.

"Oh, Uncle Fred, I'd love to! What shall we do? May I get the girls to help, and make it a regular Happy-Go-Lucky affair?"

"Certainly--and the boys, too, if you wish. I notice they are generally mustered in, 'to help or to hinder,' as the case may be. You might have an outside party if the weather is fine."

"And then we could invite so many more!"

"Invite all the town if you wish. I'll see that there's enough big sugar cakes to go round if we break the bakery. Suppose you ask Mrs.

Major and Kizzie in, and see how it strikes them!"

Alene skipped away and soon returned with the buxom housekeeper and the rosy little maid, all in a stir of excitement.

"I see Alene had no trouble in finding enthusiastic allies," said Uncle Fred in his genial way, that always set people at ease.

Everybody found seats and a pleasant hour followed in offering suggestions and making plans, while Prince lay on the rug lazily nodding approbation, or giving a friendly bark when Alene asked his opinion.

That was only the beginning of a happy time. The girls were deep in blissful preparations the next ten days; the cheerful helpers, Mat and Hugh, held many consultations with Jed and the gardener and Uncle Fred; an array of pavilions, swings, maypoles, rustic seats and tables sprang up in the Towers' grounds, and the kitchen range glowed like a furnace, turning out enough good things to feed a mult.i.tude.

Laura, Ivy, and Alene spent two afternoons in the library, making out lists and addressing invitations. Uncle Fred peeped in once or twice, bringing sheets of postage-stamps.

"May I take a few invitations? There are some fellows big and little I'd like to ask," he inquired.

Alene glanced up from her task, pen in hard and nodded absent-mindedly.

"I suppose so."

Apparently overwhelmed by her condescension, he furtively picked up half a dozen invitations and slouched away with a culprit-like mien that made Ivy lean back in her chair and laugh till she was out of breath.

Alene gazed at her wonderingly with such an innocent air that another explosion resulted, and sober Laura, all unaware of the little by-play, gave Ivy a smart rap on the back, which only increased her mirth.

"Hysterics?" inquired Alene.

"I thought she was choking, but she's only practising to be a contortionist," returned Laura, gazing apprehensively at the convulsed figure beside her.

"You girls will be the death of me, along with Mr. Dawson; he looked so funny," explained Ivy, in gasps, wiping her eyes.

They settled back to work with a will.

"Shall we ask Mark Griffin?" inquired Laura. "I have him on my list."