Betty's home was reached and her voice sounded over the wire in reply to Lois' invitation:

"Come? You bet I will! What a lark!"

"Ask her for luncheon," called Polly. Then hurriedly to Mrs. Bent: "It will be all right, won't it?"

"Indeed it will, my lamb; any one you like; it's only too happy I am to see a little life now and then," answered that devoted woman.

When the receiver was hung up it was arranged that Betty would be at the apartment Sat.u.r.day morning. Angela and Connie had another engagement and couldn't possibly come.

"That's too bad, Lo. Who can you ask now?"

Lois looked puzzled for a minute and then exclaimed:

"I have it! Why can't Uncle Roddy" (she had called him Uncle since the dinner at the Sleepy Hollow Inn), "and that funny man, Mr. Whittington, come?"

No sooner said than done. The long-suffering operator connected them with the office in Wall Street occupied by George B. Whittington, broker. He was a little taken back at the invitation, but answered that he would be "pleased as punch and would meet them at the theater." Uncle Roddy also accepted with pleasure.

Betty arrived Sat.u.r.day morning, and the three of them chattered like magpies until luncheon. They drove to the theater in the motor and found the two men there to meet them. Betty was introduced to Mr. Whittington and she nicknamed him The Lord Mayor of London at once, after d.i.c.k of the same name in the nursery tales. By the time the curtain went up they were the best of friends.

Of course they adored _Peter Pan_ and _Wendy_. They laughed a good deal and cried a little and waved their handkerchiefs madly when _Peter_ asked them if they believed in fairies.

"This is quite the nicest party I ever attended," Mr. Whittington insisted as the curtain fell after the last act. "Why can't we have another one just like it, soon?"

"But, Mr. Lord Mayor of London," interrupted Betty, "where would we ever find another _Peter Pan_?"

"Just leave that to me. I know the very thing, but I'm not going to tell you a word about it. You must all be my guests for next Wednesday night.

How about it?"

Everybody was of course delighted and accepted at once.

Wednesday night finally arrived and with it another jolly party. Mr.

Whittington's surprise turned out to be the Russian Ballet, and as the girls watched the fascinating premiere danseuse as _Pupin Fee_ (fairy doll) in that charming story dance, they were wild with delight, and Polly openly transferred her affection from _Peter Pan_. Lois remained faithful, and Betty never could make up her mind which one she loved the better.

"She might just as well be talking," exclaimed Polly between acts. "I know just what she's thinking with every move she makes. Oh, isn't she precious!"

"I know what the next composition I write for Miss Porter will be about," announced Betty.

"Oh, Bet, for pity sake stop talking about school. I'm in fairy land and I don't want to come back," Lois begged. "There goes the curtain up for the last act."

The evening was over far too soon to please our party and when Mr.

Whittington said good-night, at the door of the theater, his guests left no doubt in his mind of their appreciation and enjoyment of the good time he had given them.

Best of all days of the vacation was Christmas. Polly and Lois were wakened at nine o'clock by Uncle Roddy's knock.

"Get up, you lazy children! Merry Christmas!" he called. "Lois, I have your mother on the phone for you. Come and speak to her."

Lois jumped out of bed and in a minute was calling Xmas greetings all the way to Albany.

After breakfast Mr. Whittington arrived, and he and Uncle Roddy whispered mysteriously. Finally Mr. Whittington said:

"Get your things on, girls; we're going for a ride."

"A ride?" exclaimed Polly. "Why, the ground's covered with snow."

"Doesn't make any difference; we're going for a ride," he told her and not another word could they get out of him.

They rode in the car as far as Fort Lee Ferry and then Uncle Roddy ordered them out, and they crossed the ice-choked Hudson on the ferry-boat.

"Please tell us where we are going," pleaded Polly.

"I am simply dying to know; it's all so mysterious," added Lois.

But "wait and see" was all the satisfaction they could get from Mr.

Whittington and Uncle Roddy, and they had to wait until they reached Fort Lee, where a big double-seated sleigh was waiting for them.

When they were all in and the warm robes were tucked snugly about them, Mr. Whittington whipped up the two black horses and they were off along the smooth snow-covered road.

It was one o'clock before they finally reached an old-fashioned farmhouse way up in the hills back of the Hudson.

"Every one out!" ordered Uncle Roddy.

"What a ducky old house! But what are we here for?" asked Lois.

"I know," laughed Polly, stamping her feet on the porch. "An old-fashioned Xmas dinner."

"Quite right, Polly, and I hope it's a good one, for I'm starved. But here are Mr. and Mrs. Hopper, let's ask them about it."

As Mr. Whittington was speaking the door had opened and an old lady and gentleman stood in the hall.

"Merry Xmas to you both," he continued, shaking them each by the hand.

"Let me introduce you to the rest. Girls, this is Mrs. John Samuel Hopper, the finest cook in the State of New York; every chance I get to eat one of her turkeys-well, I take it," he explained.

The old lady blushed with pleasure.

"Won't you be coming in?" she invited. "The dinner's ready, so you'd best set."

You may be sure they all did justice to the roast duck and turkey, for their ride had given them hearty appet.i.tes.

After dinner they went out to inspect the farm and ended by having a royal snow fight. When it was over Uncle Roddy suggested more to eat and they spent the rest of the afternoon before the open fire, roasting chestnuts and apples, while the men entertained them with stories of their college days.

The vacation ended at last and Uncle Roddy saw them off, each with a box of candy and a bunch of violets, at the Grand Central Station.

Seddon Hall had a private car for the girls and as each one entered they were greeted by a chorus of shouts:

"h.e.l.lo, did you have a good time?"

"So sorry I couldn't come and see you that day."

"Why didn't you answer my letter?"