"It is going to be a success," she predicted joyously. "It seems as though the people would never stop coming, and when we've sold every one of these packages at ten cents each, Cherry Street Improvement Club will have at least fifteen dollars in its treasury. John Thomas, I'm the happiest girl in the world to-night!"
"And the prettiest,"—said John Thomas admiringly, sitting back in the grass, and taking in her appearance critically, from the pink bow on the top of her head to the toe of her black slipper.
"Now, that isn't like you," said Miss Billy reprovingly. "Usually you don't pay compliments, because you are too truthful; but you haven't seen Beatrice. She's in shimmery white, with a heavenly thing thrown over her head. And oh, John Thomas, the dearest, sweetest, handsomest girl in the world, with the darkest eyes and the waviest hair, will be here presently. It is Margaret Van Courtland. She's just home from Germany, and she is coming to the social to-night."
"Well, you suit me all right," said John Thomas, returning to his packages with a determined air. Then he added sullenly, "I'd be feelin' all right, too, to-night, if it wasn't for that darn Francis Lindsay."
Miss Billy gasped in astonishment. "Why, what in the world has Francis been doing to you?"
"Nothin'," said John Thomas, with a noncommittal air.
"But you said you didn't like him," persisted Miss Billy, in bewilderment.
"Do you?"
"Why, of course I do! I think he's elegant, and—and gentlemanly, and handsome, and everything! I don't see what you can have against him."