Bab stood up on the bed waving her check in one hand and, holding the skirt of her blue kimono in the other, executed a few jubilant dance steps.

“Oh, Barbara, I am so proud!” Ruth rejoined, looking fully as happy as Bab.  “Just think how clever you are!  The fame of being an author is more desirable than the money.  I must tell Mollie and Grace all about it.”

[Illustration:  “Oh, Ruth, I Am So Glad!”]

But Mollie and Grace had been attracted by the excitement in the next room, and now rushed in to hear the news.

Mollie’s eyes filled with tears as she embraced her sister.  She knew how Bab’s fifty dollars must be used, and why her sister was so delighted with her success.

“What are you going to do with the fifty dollars, Bab?” Grace inquired.  “I suppose you will put it away for your college money.”

Bab did not reply.  She was already longing for a little time to herself, a pen, and ink and note paper.

Harriet came in now with a message: 

“Children,” she said, “it is time to dress for dinner.  I have just had a telephone call from Father.  He is going out of town to-night, but Mrs. Wilson is to stay with us.  Father is not going until after dinner, and Mrs. Wilson and Elmer and Peter Dillon will be here to dine with us.  So we shall have rather a jolly party.  You girls had better dress.”

Harriet’s was at once informed of Bab’s good luck, and in offering Barbara her congratulations she forgot to tell the rest of her story.

Harriet had asked her father to come home half an hour before his guests arrived.  She had almost persuaded herself to make a full confession of her fault.  But the tangle of circumstance was not to be so easily unraveled.

Before Bab went down to dinner she slipped over to her desk and indorsed the check, put it in an envelope, and hid the envelope inside her dress.  Her heart was lighter than it had been in weeks, for she believed her own and Mollie’s share in the Washington trouble was over.

Mr. William Hamlin was late to dinner and his guests were compelled to hurry through the meal on his account, as he wished to catch a special train out of the city.  But they had a gay dinner party nevertheless and Harriet did not know whether she was sorry or glad that her confession had been delayed.

After Mr. Hamlin had said good-bye to his visitors Harriet followed her father out into the hall.  She thought if she told him of her fault just before he went away his anger would have time to cool before he could have opportunity to do more than reproach her for her extravagance.

“Father,” Harriet whispered timidly, “can’t you wait a few minutes longer?  I told you there was something I had to tell you.”

Mr. Hamlin shook his head impatiently.  “No, Harriet, this is not the time nor the place for confidences.  I am in far too much of a hurry.  If you want to ask me for money I positively haven’t any to give you.  Now run on back to your guests.”