on Saturday, the fifteenth. Ralph and Snigs were not allowed to see it until it was in order, save for the finishing touches, and for these the Scollards and the Gordons made a bee on Wednesday night.

They went down in high feather, Mrs. Gordon and her two tall boys, all the Scollards, including even Penny, while Miss Bradbury was to come down to meet them at the room.

Margery carried the key. She proudly put it into their own lock and opened the door. Happie sprang forward and touched the electric button, and light leaped joyously into each glass bulb, most of which were transformed by crêpe tissue paper into blossoms of unclassified varieties.

Cases stood around, which the bee party had come to open, but in spite of them the room was already beautiful.

"Miss Keren!" expostulated Mrs. Scollard, realizing at a glance what an outlay was represented by the tables, chairs, portières, and lanterns, not to mention the contents of the still unopened cases.

"Charlotte, be still!" warned Miss Keren. "Was I not your mother's closest friend, bound to her by ties of peculiar tenderness? And am I not spiritually kinless? I have told you before that you are not to remonstrate if it is my whim to play with my old friends' grandchildren, and, I won't have you spoiling 'we girls'' fun by a look! Bless their hearts, they have no idea of money. Don't you hint of it!"

Miss Keren's law was laid down rapidly in a low voice, covered by Ralph's salutation of the tea room.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure," he said, doffing his hat with an air that suggested the plumed cap of a Romeo, as Bob introduced him: "R. Gordon, T. Room; T. Room, your servant, R. Gordon. Now get to work, ladies and gentlemen." He produced hammer and chisel from the pocket of his outer coat and set an example to accompany his exhortation, by valiantly attacking the boarded top of the nearest case.

There were not many books to begin with, but what there were proved to be in the case Bob was opening, and were quickly set up on their shelves.

"We're going to ask any one who borrows from us to deposit the value of the book taken, which will be returned later, and we shall charge five cents a reading," explained Margery, when Ralph expressed a doubt of the tea room maidens' keeping their stock of latest novels intact.

"And if this part of the business goes well we're going to buy lots of books," said Laura. Then, with her usual indifference to labor that needed doing, she went over to Mrs. Stewart's piano and began to improvise, while the others briskly hurried through the work of taking out and dusting dishes and all the other contents of the cases and setting them up on the shelves.

It did not take long—though it was long enough for Penny to get sleepy and to be put by Bob into one of the empty cases for a nap, well padded around with excelsior.

When everything was done, and the boys had carried the cases out into the rear, and Penny had wakened as bright as a new penny from the mint, the tea room was a joy to look upon.

Softened lights, dull, warm draperies, pretty china, the bindings of the books, all contributed to an effect as homelike as it was artistic.

"She who comes once will come twice," said Mrs. Gordon looking around her.

"Sounds like a well-worn adage, mother," observed Ralph. "But it's as true as 'tis new. Old maids and tea has always been the combination. Let's put out a quaint sign: "Ye Yonge Maids' Tea Room."

"Yes, with all the letters higgledy-piggledy to prove we know what's true art," cried Happie. "I don't believe we want a sign out. Besides, it might keep away elderly people; they might think it meant they couldn't come in."

"Or else flatter them so that they'd come in hordes," added Miss Keren. "Light your gas stove, girls, and brew us your first tea. We'll christen the tea room."

Gretta sprang to obey, secretly proud of having overcome her fear of the first spurt of the gas when it leaped to the match.

"We'll have to make hot lemonade for part of our guests, including me," said Happie, bustling about to set out cups and crackers, with a glance at the boys who liked tea as little as she did.

Margery put English breakfast and fragrant Formosa Oolong into two of the prettiest teapots, and they drank, standing, the toast to the success of the enterprise, which was proposed by Miss Keren.

"Good-night, pretty place," said Polly, peeping back into the room from under Margery's arm as she put the key in the door.

"Yes, good-night," said Ralph. "As I said when we came: 'We're pleased to meet you.'"

CHAPTER III
THE CUP THAT CHEERS

For two days the Patty-Pans was hardly bereft of its young mistresses for an hour. It was fragrant with the odors of its sacrifices; cake-making and candy-making went on all Thursday and Friday in preparation for the opening of the tea room on Saturday.

Happie's strong point was fudge, and she made so much of it that it did not seem possible half of it would be sold, especially when Margery had contributed her three pans each of vanilla and chocolate caramels.

Bob and Ralph escorted the three oldest girls down to the tea room after dinner on Friday, laden with good things and to make sure that nothing was wanting for the morrow. Sleep was light and broken for half of the eight excited tenants of the crowded Patty-Pans after they had come back that last night, and morning came sooner than the subdued light of the small chambers indicated.

Laura was to have followed Margery and Happie on that opening day, after lunch when Gretta came down, but her discontent at this arrangement was so great that kind little Polly volunteered to wait, and Laura set out with Margery and Happie when Mrs. Scollard went forth with Bob to the work of the day.

"Good luck, Three Sisters!" said Bob, shaking hands at parting. "So you are the Three Sisters—the Fates, you see! Isn't it great that all of us Scollards are business men?"

Mrs. Scollard looked as if she might dispute the desirability of the situation. It was not easy for her to reconcile herself to the misfortunes attendant on her husband's death, which had deprived her children of their birthright of ease and social position. For herself the heroic little woman was not tempted to complain, but for them! Even Happie's light-heartedness could not take the sting out of the remembrance of what she had lost. But all she said was:

"We will meet in the restaurant for dinner, girls, and Bob will fetch you. Take care that nothing happens to Penny after Gretta gets her to you this afternoon. And good-bye, dear little tea ladies! Good fortune, and don't be dismayed if you encounter customers who are less inclined to enjoy your tea room than you are."

They were inclined to enjoy it more than ever, the three girls, when Margery, the portress, admitted them. Happie drew back the soft green curtains on their brass-ringed rod and let in the sunshine she loved. Laura opened the piano and rearranged the fronds of the fern which she had pleaded might sit on it, on a safely large brass tray. Margery opened and delicately sniffed each tea caddy for the unnumbered time, to make perfectly certain that she had labeled aright Ceylon, English Breakfast and Oolong.

The girls were all to wear gowns alike in style, differing in colors. Margery's was the dove color with a hint of lavender that so perfectly suited her dove-eyes and madonna face. Happie's was a beautiful green, Laura's a soft, faded pink, Gretta's—when she came—would blend with them in its golden tint that