"Only-"

"Only-"

"Only what!" asked Ned, as the girls viewed each other doubtfully.

"I'm not sure Mother would let me," sighed Polly. "Do you think she would, Mae?"

"I don't believe so. And I don't believe Mama would let me. She-she's awfully particular that way."

"Gee!" said Ned, in disappointed tones, "I don't see why not! It isn't as if-"

"Of course it isn't," agreed Laurie. "Besides, your mothers would be there too!"

"Would they?" asked Mae, uncertainly.

"Of course! Every one's coming! What harm would there be in it? You can do things for-for charity that you can't do any other time! All you'd have to do would be to just stand behind the booth and sell things. It won't be hard. Everything will have the price marked on it and-"

"You won't need to go by the prices always, though," interpolated Ned.

"I mean, if you can get more than the thing is marked, you'd better do it! And then there's the-the costumes, Laurie."

"Oh, yes, I forgot. We'd like each girl to sort of wear something that would sort of match the college she represented-sort of," he explained apologetically. "If you had the Yale booth, you could wear a dark-blue waist, and so on. Do you think that would be possible?"

Polly giggled. "We might ask Stella Hatch to take the Harvard booth, Mae. With her hair, she wouldn't have to dress much!"

"And you and Polly could take your first pick," observed Laurie, craftily. "You'd look swell as-as Dartmouth, Mae!"

"In _green_! My gracious, Ned! No, thank you! But Polly ought to be Yale. She looks lovely in blue. I think I'd like to be Cornell. My brother Harry's in Cornell."

"All right," agreed Ned. "I wish you'd ask your mothers soon, will you?

Do try, because we've just got to get girls for the booths. You'd have lots of fun, too. The Banjo and Mandolin Club is going to play for dancing for an hour at five and nine, and there'll be an entertainment, too."

"What sort?" asked Polly.

"We don't know yet. Some of the gymnastic team will do stunts, I think, for one thing, and there'll be singing and maybe Laurie will do some rope-swinging-"

"I told you a dozen times I wouldn't! Besides, I haven't any rope."

"We can find one, probably," replied his brother, untroubled. "We haven't settled about the entertainment yet. And there are two or three other things we haven't got to. Starling's going to have his garden all fixed up, and he's going to cover the old arbor with branches and hang Chinese lanterns in it and have little tables and chairs there for folks to sit down and eat ice-cream and cake.

"And that reminds me, Polly. Do you suppose that Miss Comfort would make some cakes for us?"

"Why, yes, Nid, but-but you'd have to _buy_ them. I don't think you ought to expect her to _donate_ them."

"We meant to buy them, of course, Polly. And we wondered if your mother would make some of those dandy cream-puffs."

"I'm sure she will. How many would you want?"

"I don't know. You see, there's no way of telling how many will come.

There are three thousand people in Orstead, but that doesn't mean much, does it? The 'Messenger' editor's agreed to put in an advertis.e.m.e.nt for us for nothing, and there'll be notices all around town in the windows: we got the man who prints the school monthly to do them for just the cost of the paper. So folks ought to come, shouldn't you think?"

"Oh, I'm sure they will!" agreed Polly, and Mae echoed her. "But it'll be dreadfully hard to know how much cake and ice-cream and refreshments to order, won't it?"

"Fierce," agreed Ned. "I suppose the best way will be to reckon on, say, three hundred and order that much stuff. Only, how do you tell how much three hundred will eat?"

"Why, you can't! Besides, Nid, three hundred people would only bring in seventy-five dollars!"

"In admissions, yes; but we've got to make them buy things when we get them in there. If every one spent a dollar inside-"

"But lots of them won't. Do you think they will, Mae?"

Mae shook her head. "No, I don't. Lots and lots will just come out of curiosity and won't spend a cent. I know, boys, because that's the way they act at the fairs here."

Ned kicked at the turf gloomily. "Gee, that's fierce!" he muttered.

"Well, we'd ought to get more than three hundred folks," said Laurie.

"Remember, it's to be afternoon and evening too. I'll bet there'll be nearer six hundred than three."

Ned brightened. "That's so. And six hundred, even if they only averaged fifty cents apiece, would be three hundred dollars. And I guess if we can make three hundred, we can dig up the other fifty! Well, we've got to get busy, Laurie. I got them to give me a cut from practice this afternoon and I'll have to make the most of my time," he explained to the girls.

"Oh! And did they let you off, too, Nod?" asked Polly.

"No, we're through with baseball," Laurie answered. "No more till spring. I'm just fairly broken-hearted!"

"When will you know about helping us, Polly?" Ned asked.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "But don't you think almanacs make mistakes sometimes?"

asked Polly]

"I'll ask Mother right away; and you'll ask, too, won't you, Mae? Can you stop in this evening? I do hope it'll be all right!"

"So do we!" said Ned and Laurie, in a breath. "Rather!"

And the Committee on Arrangements hurried away.

That night the committee met again in Dan Whipple's room in West Hall and satisfactory progress was reported all along the line. Ned read a list of donations from the town merchants, and announced that twelve young ladies from the high school would be on hand, appropriately attired, to take charge of the booths. Lew Cooper showed proofs of the poster that was to be displayed in windows and tacked on posts and fences, and of the four-inch, double-column advertis.e.m.e.nt to appear in the "Messenger." Dan reported that Mr. Wells, the physical director, had promised to see that the best six members of the gymnastic team should exhibit afternoon and evening.

"That means, though," he said, "that we'll have to have some kind of a platform. Better make a note of that, Lew."

"Platforms cost money," answered Lew, dubiously. "Maybe we can borrow-I'll tell you what! There's one stored over in the field-house, one they use to set the dressing-tent on. It's in two pieces,-sections,-but I guess it's big enough. We'll see if we can't get the use of it."

"Good! Better ask Mr. Wells, Say, Hal, did you see Norris?"

Hal Pringle was Dan's room-mate, and, while he was usually present at the meetings, he was careful to keep himself in the background unless called on for advice. Now he looked up from his book and nodded. "Yes, it 'a all right. They'll play for an hour in the afternoon and an hour at night. I had to promise them eats, though."

"Of course. Much obliged. Speaking of eats, fellows, what's been done about the refreshments?"

"Nothing yet," answered Ned. "I wanted to talk that over. How many sandwiches and how much salad will we want? And how many gallons of ice-cream and-"

"Whoa!" begged Dan. "Blessed if I know! How the d.i.c.kens are we going to know how much food will be needed? What's the rule about it? Or isn't there any?"