Part 7 (1/2)

”No, not a single bit.”

”That's all right, then.” Timmie's brow smoothed with relief. He was silent a moment, and then his little whispering voice again, this time to Glory:

”Say, isn't this just splendid! I'm playin', an' Di's playin'. You're the only one that's _it_, honest true.”

Another silence. Then, ”Say, I'm sorry I wokened you up that time, screamin' 'Fire!'”

Glory laughed down into the repentant little face. ”I'll forgive you, Timmie,” she whispered. And then the exercises began and the air was full of a blast of jubilant music.

When it was all over, the three went back to Little Douglas together on the train. There was to be a bit of a banquet in Aunt Hope's room.

Glory had a neat white parchment roll in her hand, and she held it shyly, as if she had not had time to get very well acquainted with it.

”To think this is a diploma with Gloria Wetherell in Latin inside it!” she cried.

”To think this is a beautiful white dress with _me_ inside!” answered the Other Girl. ”Do you know--oh, do you _know_, it doesn't smell of rubber at all? There isn't a whiff about it; it's just sweet and dainty and--_other-folksy_.”

On the train the Crosspatch Conductor drew Glory aside a moment. His eyes rested first on the parchment roll.

”Got it, didn't you? Good! Well, I've got it too. She's consented--grandma has. I've told her all about the other one, and what you said, and it's going to be all right. We won't tell her yet until we get kind of used to it ourselves, don't you see?”