It was the day of the Senior dance. A gala day at Miss North's. Sue and Blue Bonnet had both been invited to the dance--an almost unheard of privilege. Sue had been thus favored because her brother Billy was to be Annabel's guest, and Blue Bonnet, because Annabel had begged Miss North, almost on her hands and knees to grant her this one last request.
It was a long established custom for the young men to arrive at noon, pay their respects to teachers and the girls who had invited them and remain on for a concert, tea, or whatever had been planned for their entertainment. At five o'clock they left to dress for the dinner which preceded the dance.
Annabel lost no time with her toilet. In ten minutes she was dressed, with Blue Bonnet's help, and as sweet a vision as youth, good health and beauty could produce.
"Your gown is perfect, Annabel," she said, giving an extra pat here and there, or trying to, between Annabel's quick movements. "I doubt if you'll look a speck prettier to-night in your white lace. Pink certainly is your color. You had it on the first time I saw you. I remember writing Uncle Cliff about you."
They started for the living-room. Along the halls girls waited in groups to catch a glimpse of their favorites. Heads craned from doors and exclamations of approval passed from lip to lip:
"Oh, aren't they lovely! The two prettiest girls in school! What a love of a gown Annabel's got! Isn't Blue Bonnet a dream?"
At the top of the stairs wedged in, obstructing the passage, sat Carita and Mary. They fell upon Annabel and Blue Bonnet regardless of their finery.
"A kiss! A kiss!" they cried. "You've got to pay toll!" A forfeit willingly given.
"I can hardly wait until five o'clock," Mary said. "I'm dying to get Annabel's flowers for her." But the hands of the hall clock pointed to half after five before the guests had left, and Mary and Carita were free to slip down-stairs from Fifth Avenue and across the hall to where the long boxes were piled high beside the mail bag. Through the pile the girls searched, and suddenly Mary, with a cry of satisfaction, snatched her Senior's box and ran back up-stairs to number fifteen, with mad delight.
"Here they are, Annabel! Your flowers! Quick, the scissors!" She waved the long box triumphantly. "I knew he wouldn't forget. Oh, the beauties--roses! Roses!"