"My dear," rejoined Mrs. Maynard, changing the topic. "I'm sorry to tell you Daren Lane has lost his standing in Middleville."
The hum and the honk of a motor-car sounded in the street.
"Poor Daren! What's he done?... Any old day he'll care!"
Mrs. Maynard was looking out of the window. "Here comes a crowd of girls.... Helen Wrapp has a new suit. Well, I'll go down. And after they leave I want a serious talk with you."
"Not if I see you first!" muttered Margaret, under her breath, as her mother walked out.
Presently, following gay talk and laughter down stairs, a bevy of Margaret's friends entered her boudoir.
"Hello, old socks!" was Helen's greeting. "You look punk."
"Marg, where's the doll? Your mother tipped us off," was Elinor's greeting.
"Where's the eats?" was Flossie Dickerson's greeting. She was a bright-eyed girl, with freckles on her smiling face, and the expression of a daring, vivacious and happy spirit—and acknowledged to be the best dancer and most popular girl in Middleville. Her dress, while not to be compared with her friends' costumes in costliness, yet was extreme in the prevailing style.
"Glad to see you, old dear," was dark-eyed, dark-haired Dorothy Dalrymple's greeting. Her rich color bore no hint of the artificial. She sank down on her knees beside Margaret.