Suppose you come as a guest to our next meeting and ask their permission." "I'll do it," promised Kathleen.
Mary Reynolds received and accepted Kathleen's invitation to the reception with unmistakable joy.

Grace had sent home for a pink silk evening gown, which she had worn but little, and fairly forced it, with slippers, stockings and gloves, upon the reluctant Mary, with the plea that pink was not her color and therefore she never wore the frock.
Aside from shortening it, it had needed little alteration, and when the night of the sophomore reception arrived, Kathleen appeared, an hour before the time to start for the dance, to help Mary dress.

She brought a cluster of pinky-white roses and a pink chiffon scarf, which, she diplomatically insisted, did not go well with any of her gowns and exactly matched Mary's.
"I can't believe that I am I," Mary said happily, as she viewed herself wonderingly in the round dressing-table mirror.

She clasped her thin, childish hands impulsively together.

"I wish every girl in the world had such good friends and pretty clothes as I have!" "I hope no one has such elusive hooks and eyes on their clothes as I have," grumbled Emma Dean, who had appeared in the doorway in time to hear Mary's heartfelt remark.