"There are holes in my best gloves," mourned Bettie. "They came in a missionary box, and missionary gloves are never very good even to start with. Besides, Dick wore them first--I never had a _new_ pair of kid gloves."
"Never mind," said always generous Mabel. "I must have about six pairs and I've never had any of the things on. I know I've outgrown some of them. Your hands are lots smaller than mine. Come over and I'll fix you out--Mother said we'd have to give them to somebody and I guess you're just exactly the right somebody. I hate the thing myself."
"I wish," said Jean, "that my shoes were newer, but I'll get the boys to black 'em."
"I can't help _you_ out," laughed Mabel. "My shoes are short and fat and yours are long and slim."
"A coat of Wallace's blacking will be all that's needed, thank you, Mabel. There's nothing like having brothers when it comes to blacking shoes."
"We'll have to get up a little earlier to-morrow morning," said Marjory.
"Mercy!" exclaimed Jean, "are you leaving all those chocolate cups on the fence for _me_ to carry in?"
"Of course not," said obliging Bettie, seizing two. "Come on, you lazy people."
THE four girls were wonderfully excited all the next day. They were restless in school and fidgety at home.
"A body would think," scoffed Aunty Jane, at noon, "that you were going to your own wedding. Don't worry so. I'll have everything ready for you to put on the moment you get out of school."
"Oh, thank you," breathed Marjory, fervently. "That'll help a lot; but I do hope that Bettie's father will remember to do those cards. And, Aunty Jane, _could_ you lend me a perfectly inkless hankerchief?"
"Jumping January!" growled Wallace Mapes, Jean's older brother. "That makes nineteen times, Jean, that you've reminded me of those miserable shoes. I'll black them when I've finished lunch. I'm not going to rush off in the middle of my oyster soup to black _any_body's best shoes."
"No," replied Wallace, "just a formal call on Henrietta Bedford."
"She's in my French class," said Roger. "And kippered snakes! You ought to hear her recite. She talks up and down and all around poor little Miss McGinnis, whose French was made right here in Lakeville. It's a daily picnic."