“And I begged her to bring her lace pillow,” said Charlotte.  “I thought that would add a touch to the whole occasion.”

Ruth gave her a rapturous hug.  “It will,” she said joyfully.  “And isn’t it all going to be the finest thing you ever saw?”

The hall hummed like a beehive as the work went on, and little by little things took shape and began to promise a harmonious whole.  It really seemed as though some good fairy were watching over affairs, for the carpenters finished their work and went at an early hour, the chairs and tables arrived in good season, and the big picture-frame which had been put together for the girls proved to be all that could be desired.

To be sure there were disagreements, and even accidents, for Bert and a step-ladder had a difference of opinion and collapsed together, and Betty dropped a pail of paste on Jack, who had politely stopped to admire the artistic work she and Frank were doing on the palmist’s tent.  As he was looking up and had just opened his mouth to say something complimentary the result was disastrous, and the poor fellow stood there blinded and gasping until Dorothy carne to the rescue with a wet towel.

At one o’clock the workers departed for lunch, a few of the boys and girls promising to come back in the early afternoon to finish the little that was left.

“I haven’t the slightest idea whether it is going to look pretty or not,” said Ruth wearily as they left the hall.

“Just wait until it’s lighted,” consoled Betty.  “Then you’ll see.”

When the earliest of the audience arrived that evening the old hall, dressed in her best, was waiting to receive them.  The cool green and white of the draperies softened the plainness of the walls, and a huge, round ball made of red and yellow roses and glittering with diamond dust swung from the centre chandelier and glowed in its light.  Smaller balls hung from the side-brackets, each enclosing an electric bulb which shone with soft radiance through the vivid red and pale yellow of the roses.

In the comer nearest the door was a booth draped in pink and blue, and here two pretty girls in white were ready to sell the various delicacies made by the members of the Cooking Club.  The girls had worked hard, and Ruth’s maple fudge, Dorothy’s creamed walnuts and dates, Katharine’s salted nuts, and Alice’s peanut brittle made such a tempting array that none could see without wanting to buy.  Betty’s contribution was a dozen glasses of delicious-looking orange marmalade, and behind them were piled boxes of Mrs. Perrier’s crisp Swiss wafers.

As a joke Charlotte had brought in quite unexpectedly at the last moment a huge pan of baked apples, and she insisted on having them on the table in spite of the fact that the pan in its nest of pink crepe paper took up a large amount of space.

“The rest of you are represented by your masterpieces,” she said, rolling out the long words with great relish.  “So why shouldn’t I put mine there?  I’m sure I shall never achieve anything more perfect than those baked apples, and they’re much more digestible than all that sweet stuff.”