Lydia lay watching snowflakes sift softly past the window. It was not long before Margery and Kent appeared.
"She's going!" cried Kent.
Margery's beautiful eyes were glowing. "Yes, I'm going, Lyd! And if nobody else will dance with me, Kent will take all the dances."
Old Lizzie followed in. She looked sharply at Lydia, then said, "You folks come out in the dining-room and let Lydia have a little nap."
"No, I guess I'll go home," Margery answered, "Mother's not very well to-day."
"I'll take you along in my chug-chug." Kent crossed over to the couch and took Lydia's hand, while Margery went for her wraps. "Good-by, dear," he whispered, "get well fast for me."
Lydia smiled at him over the bunch of violets.
Billy was the next caller. "I left Dad and Amos saving the Nation through Free Trade," he said. "Gee, Lydia, but you do look better! You don't suppose you could possibly go to the Prom., just for one or two dances, do you?"
Lydia shook her head. "No clothes," she said, briefly. "Ask some other girl."
"There isn't any other girl," replied Billy. "If I can't go with you,
I'll be hanged if I go at all! Lydia, I don't see why a sensible girl
like you lays such stress on clothes. Honestly, it's not like you.
Come on, be a sport and go in your usual dress."