He stopped and went in.

Three-quarters of an hour later, a messenger-boy delivered a particularly ugly and frankly inexpensive wristwatch at the McDonald home. The parcel was addressed to Miss McDonald and the accompanying card read:

Mr. Bowen: Call me up any night after seven. Calumet 2678. Miss Violet Moore.”

There was no goodwill toward men in the McDonald home this Christmas. Ellen spent the day in bed and the orders were that she must not be disturbed.

Downstairs, one person smiled. It was Walter. He smiled in spite of the fact that his father had tossed his brand-new five-dollar poker set into the open fireplace. He smiled in spite of the fact that he was not allowed to leave the house, not even to take Kathryn to church.

“Gee!” he thought, between smiles, “Billy sure had nerve!”

Bob walked round among his relatives seeking to dispel the gloom with a remark that he thought apt and nifty:

“Be grateful,” was the remark, “that he had one of his screamingly funny moods before it was too late.”

But no one but Bob seemed to think much of the remark, and no one seemed grateful.


Those are the facts, and it was quite a job to dig them up. But I did it.

Tour Y-10

Saturday, August 26: Diary, I am so thrilled I can hardly write, and who would not be, to think that Kate and I start tonight on our wonderful trip and will be away from work and grimy old Chi for two whole weeks. But I simply know that something will happen between now and ten o’clock to prevent us going; mother will get sick or I will wake up and find it is “all a dream,” or something. I would simply die if something did happen, but I just won’t let anything happen, and that settles it.

Kate just called up, and when I went to the phone she said she had decided not to go, after all. I believe I would of died if she had not laughed right after she said it, and then I knew she was joking. Kate is an awful tease, but the dearest girl in the world, and I could not of loved a sister more than she. I believe she and I are really closer to each other than most sisters, and it is funny we should be as we are as opposite as two girls could be in disposition and character and appearance and everything. I am serious, though I have a keen sense of humor, while Kate is always looking at the funny side of things, and when we are together she keeps me simply screaming at the things she says and does. I believe I do a lot more thinking than she and try to get at the bottom of things. As for appearance, while she is a dear girl, she is not a bit pretty. She is dark; dark hair and brown eyes, and does not take any care of her complexion. She wears glasses, and she is large enough to make two of poor little me. I am five feet five, and slender; golden, wavy hair; eyes that are sometimes blue and sometimes violet; good features and a good complexion. It is funny we should get along so well, being so unlike; but maybe it is because of the contrast between us that we are such good friends; and, of course, when she makes some remark about my looks, I always laugh it off, and say that beauty is only “skin deep,” or something.

What I envy about Kate is her nerve. She is positively not afraid of anything. It was she who suggested spending our vacation on a trip to Yellowstone Park. I would never of dared think about it myself. When she first sprung it, one day last June, when we were coming down on the “L,” I thought she must be up to one of her practical jokes, but for once she was in dead earnest.

“Let’s have one good time, girlie,” was the way she put it.

“But listen, Kate,” was my reply; “it would cost a million dollars. You talk like we were Hetty Gould, or something.”

“It will cost just about $125 apiece,” was her reply “Yes, but that is nearly $125 more than either of us have,” I said.

“Speak for yourself, girlie,” was her reply. “I am only shy twenty dollars myself, and we don’t have to go till the last of August. You just quit plunging in silk stockings and other things that nobody ever sees, and save up every penny between now and then, and, if it isn’t enough, I will be your uncle for the difference.”

“You would make a fine uncle, Kate,” I said laughingly. “I never heard of a girl being an uncle.”

Of course, I knew what she meant, but I was just joking her. Well, there is no arguing with Kate when her mind is made up. I tried to tell her how crazy it was, and how we would both have to go without a fall suit, and wear our last winter coats and everything; but I might as well of been talking to a stone or something. She said she was sick and tired of St. Joe and South Haven, and all the resorts around Chi, and if I did not make the trip with her she would go alone; and she did not think it would be proper for a girl to go alone on such a trip.

“Would it be proper for two girls?” I inquired.

“Sure it would,” was her reply. “Della and Paula Ingles made the trip two years ago, and had a perfectly wonderful time, and everybody in the party treated them grand and did their best to show them a good time. It’s always a great big party that makes the trips, and there is a man in charge and everything. We will be just as safe as though we were home.”

Well, I had to

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