That is what happened then.  Mother took the wrong course and threatened, which as I have stated is fatal, as far as I am concerned.  I refused to yeild an inch, and it ended in my having my dinner in my room, and mother threatening to keep me home from the Party the next night.  It was not a threat, if she had only known it.

But when the next day went by, with no more flowers, and nothing aparently wrong except that mother was very dignafied with me, I began to feel better.  Sis was out all day, and in the afternoon Jane called me up.

“How are you?” she said.

“Oh, I’m all right.”

“Everything smooth?”

“Well, smooth enough.”

“Oh, Bab,” she said.  “I’m just crazy about it.  All the girls are.”

“I knew they were crazy about something.”

“You poor thing, no wonder you are bitter,” she said.  “Somebody’s coming.  I’ll have to ring off.  But don’t you give in, Bab.  Not an inch.  Marry your Heart’s Desire, no matter who butts in.”

Well, you can see how it was.  Even then I could have told father and mother, and got out of it somehow.  But all the girls knew about it, and there was nothing to do but go on.

All that day every time I thought of the Party my heart missed a beat.  But as I would not lie and say that I was ill—­I am naturaly truthful, as far as possible—­I was compelled to go, although my heart was breaking.

I am not going to write much about the party, except a slight discription, which properly belongs in every Theme.

All Parties for the school set are alike.  The boys range from knickerbockers to college men in their Freshmen year, and one is likely to dance half the evening with youngsters that one saw last in their perambulaters.  It is rather startling to have about six feet of black trouser legs and white shirt front come and ask one to dance and then to get one’s eyes raised as far as the top of what looks like a particularly thin pair of tree trunks and see a little boy’s face.

As this Theme is to contain discription I shall discribe the ball room of the club where the eventful party occurred.

The ball room is white, with red hangings, and looks like a Charlotte Russe with maraschino cherries.  Over the fireplace they had put “Merry Christmas,” in electric lights, and the chandaliers were made into Christmas trees and hung with colored balls.  One of the balls fell off during the Cotillion, and went down the back of one of the girl’s dresses, and they were compelled to up-end her and shake her out in the dressing room.

The favors were insignifacant, as usual.  It is not considered good taste to have elaberate things for the school crowd.  But when I think of the silver things Sis always brought home, and remember that I took away about six Christmas Stockings, a toy Baloon, four Whistles, a wooden Canary in a cage and a box of Talcum Powder, I feel that things are not fair in this World.