GRACE KEEPS HER SECRET The "best" Oakdale people did not often see the melodramas that appeared from time to time at the small opera house.

Occasionally, if something really good came along, Oakdale society turned out in force and filled the boxes and the orchestra seats; but, generally speaking, the little theater was only half filled.
And such was the case on this Thanksgiving night.

Most of the audience was made up of farmers out holiday-making with their families, factory girls from the silk mills and a few storekeepers and clerks.
"I am glad there are so few people here," observed Grace, looking around the scanty audience; "because, if we have to resort to my scheme, it will make it much easier and less dangerous." "What in the world is it ?" pleaded Jessica.
"Never mind," answered her friend.

"I'm afraid you'll object, so I won't tell until the last minute." Just then a wheezy orchestra struck up a march and the High School party settled down in their seats, each with a secret feeling that it was rather good fun, in spite of the peculiar reason that had taken them there.
"Here he is," said Nora, pointing to the name on the programme.

"He takes the part of Amos Lord, owner of the woolen mills." At that moment the lights went down and the music stopped short.