"Well, here we are. Everything in order, girls?" asked Rob. "Everything except our excuses. Wait until I go get them," answered Retta. Suddenly Peg uttered a smothered groan. Both boys looked at her. She appeared to be in the most agonizing pain. One dainty hand was clapped fiercely over her jaw. "Peggy, are you dying?" exclaimed Jack. Peg slowly regained her normal poise and answered: "I have a dreadful toothache. I must go to the dentist right now! My absence won't spoil the fun." She grabbed her coat, ran for the door and didn't stop running until she was fairly out of sight-but not toward the doctor's office. Jack stood transfixed. It was beginning to dawn on him that she had misunderstood. "Come on, aren't you going, too?" Rob's voice broke into his thoughts-serious thoughts! "I'm awfully sorry her old tooth had to ache, but she'd feel badly if we didn't go ahead. Come on with us?" Retta asked politely. "No, I guess not. If she can't go I can't!" Jack had waited patiently, then impatiently, for the remainder of an hour period when Peg, looking rather crestfallen, came toward school. She entered the hall and took off her coat. She didn't notice Jack as he stepped up behind her. "Peggy!" Peg was startled. "Why-why-I thought you went-went with the interesting ones of the party," she ended sarcastically. "Peggy, you misunderstood me-terribly-this morning." "Oh, I don't know. I think your meaning was quite clear." The biting words struck home. Jack flushed. "Now, Peggy, listen," detaining her as she tried to pass, "T meant Retta. Honestly! I knew that if she went Rob would have to go and I'd rather just you and I-" "Then do you mean-" Peg blushed and turned her head away. "Yes, Peggy, that's what I mean." -Cora M. Mortenson, '21.