MRS. PRESTON says we may have a dance before we go back to the houseboat, Eleanor," announced Lillian. The two girls were out under the big grape arbor filling a basket with great bunches of red and purple grapes. "And Madge suggests that we have a surprise dance for the boys the night they get back with the motor launch."

Eleanor laughed happily. "What a perfectly delightful idea! Isn't Mrs. Preston a dear? We must have been a lot of trouble to her."

Lillian shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think so," she answered. "At least, I believe Mrs. Preston has liked the trouble. She says that we have made her feel younger and jollier than she ever expected to feel again in her life. She says that she is awfully fond of each one of us, and that Mr. Preston has never cared as much for a boy since his own son died, many years ago, as he does for David Brewster."

"Lillian," Eleanor's tones were serious, "I think that we ought to change our opinions of David. Somehow, he seems so much nicer recently, since the other boys went away. He is awfully quiet and sad, but I don't believe he is hateful and sullen, as we thought him at first. Poor David!"

Lillian did not reply at once. A sympathetic expression crossed her delicate, high-bred face. "I suppose, Nellie, dear, it must be hard for David to be with fellows who have everything in the world, like the motor launch boys—money and family and friends—when David has nothing."

"Madge declares that David will some day be a great man," rejoined Eleanor. "There he is now over there under the trees with Madge, Phil and little blind Alice. Isn't she a quaint child? She says she loves Madge best of all of us, because she can feel the color in Madge's red hair and cheeks. Miss Betsey is almost jealous of our little captain."

Lillian finished eating a bunch of catawba grapes. "Miss Betsey wants to take that blind child back to Hartford with her. She says that if Alice sees specialists in New York her sight may be restored. And her grandfather has consented to let her go, though I don't see how the old man can bear to give her up. Mr. and Mrs. Preston have asked him to live here with them, but he says he will go into a Confederate home for old Southern soldiers as soon as Alice leaves. Let's go over under the trees with Madge and Phil. We can eat our grapes and talk about the party."

Madge waved a yellow telegram frantically as Nellie and Lillian came toward them. "Tom and the boys will be back with the motor launch the day after to-morrow," she announced. "And that darling, Mrs. Preston, says we can have our dance on that very night, and it's to be a fancy dress party if we like, because she has stores and stores of lovely old-fashioned clothes up in her attic and she won't mind our dressing up in them. So we must drive round the neighborhood this afternoon and deliver our invitations and decide what characters we are to represent and——" Madge gasped for breath, while Phil fanned her violently with a large palm-leaf fan.

"Come right on upstairs to the attic with me," ordered Madge, as soon as she could speak again. "We have no time to waste. We can look at the dresses and then see what characters we wish to represent. David, you can come, too," invited Madge graciously. "You can carry Alice up the steps."

David lifted the blind girl to his shoulder and trotted obediently after the girls. He no longer minded Madge's occasionally imperious manner, for he knew she was unconscious of it.

On top of all the other clothes in Mrs. Preston's cedar chest was a black velvet gown, made with a long train and a V-shaped neck. Phyllis laid it regretfully aside. "This is perfectly elegant," she sighed, "but it isn't appropriate for any of us to wear."

Lillian Seldon received the rejected costume with outstretched arms. For some time she had cherished the belief that she bore a faint resemblance to the beautiful but ill-fated "Mary, Queen of Scots." Lillian had come across a picture of the lovely Mary Stuart in an illustrated "Book of Queens" in Miss Tolliver's school, and had borne the book to her bedroom and carefully locked her door. There she had gazed thoughtfully at the picture and then at her own reflection in the glass. Of course, it would never do for her to mention it, not even to one of the beloved houseboat girls, but it did appear to Lillian that her own blonde hair grew in a low point on her forehead in much the same fashion as Mary Stuart's. Also, she had a similar line to her aristocratic, aquiline nose, and her chin was almost as delicately pointed. Assuredly Lillian was not vain. She did not think for a moment that she was beautiful, like Mary Queen of Scots, still she thought that she bore a faint resemblance to the ill-fated Queen.

In the velvet gown lay Lillian's opportunity to impersonate the lovely Mary, but she blushed as she smoothed it softly. "I wonder if I might not wear this dress to the party?" she suggested meekly.

Madge shook her head critically. "It is much too old for you, dear," she argued.

"But I have always wanted to wear a black velvet gown so much, Madge, I mean to buy one as soon as I am really grown-up," she pleaded, "and I could come to our dance as 'Mary, Queen of Scots.'"

The three girls surveyed pretty, blonde Lillian thoughtfully. Then three heads nodded approvingly.

"Here is a costume for Nellie. It looks like her, doesn't it, girls?" exclaimed Phyllis, picking up a soft, white silk gown with a Greek border of silver braid a little tarnished by time. "Isn't it just too sweet for anything?"

"It is a love of a frock," sighed Eleanor rapturously, "but I don't think it suggests any special character."

Madge frowned thoughtfully. "Oh, it doesn't make so much difference about representing a particular character, Nellie. You can go as a lady of King Arthur's time. I imagine the women wore just such gowns in the days of beauty and chivalry."

"All right," said Eleanor obediently. "There is a 'King Arthur's Knights' in the library. I'll get it and read up on the doings of the King and his subjects. Perhaps I'll find a character that will just suit me. I'm too dark to ever think of impersonating Elaine."

"I can't represent a great historical character," declared Madge, peering into the trunk—"who ever heard of a heroine with red hair and a turned-up nose?—but I am going to wear this dress." Madge held up a flowered silk of softest, palest blue, with great pale-pink roses trailing over it. It was made with a long, pointed blouse, and had little paniers over the hips. Madge slipped the gown on over her frock. The dress had a little bag of the same silk hanging at its side and in it a dainty lace handkerchief, sweet with a far-off fragrance of lavender.

David and the three girls gazed admiringly at Madge.

"Miss Dolly Varden!" exclaimed Phil. "It is just the kind of costume that Dickens makes Dolly Varden wear in 'Barnaby Rudge.' Only Miss Jenny Ann must make you a poke bonnet. But what about poor me? I am such a dreadfully unromantic-looking person. I am not a tall, stately maiden like our rare, pale Lillian, nor a witch like Madge, nor a dainty little maid like Nellie. I am just plain Phil!" Phyllis sighed, half in jest and half in earnest.

"I know what character I want you to represent, Phyllis, darling," cried Madge. "There is no costume here that is very appropriate for it, but I know how to make a helmet and shield out of silver paper and cardboard. And I am sure we could get up the rest of the costume."

"Whom do you mean, Madge?" inquired Phil.

"Guess. My character is a wonderfully brave girl, who sacrificed her life to save her King and her country. Just lately she has been declared a saint by her church."

David glanced up from the floor, where he was amusing little Alice. "Joan of Arc, you mean, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do, David. How did you guess it? I don't say that Phil looks just like the pictures of Joan of Arc, but she is like her. She would do anything in the world that she thought was right, even if she lost her life in doing it," declared her friend admiringly. "Now, Mr. David Brewster, having arranged the costumes of four important members of the Preston household, what character will you represent?"

"My own humble self," announced David firmly. "Please don't ask me to 'dress up.' I felt like a perfect chump the night I had to rig myself up as 'Hiawatha.' I rushed up to the house and got the crazy clothes off, even before I—before I——" David stopped, then continued nervously: "Remember, the other fellows won't have time to get themselves into fancy costumes, so please let me off. I'll clear out, now, and let you girls fix up your costumes."

To save her life, Madge could not help looking curiously at David. It was the usual hour in the afternoon when the young man disappeared. When, late that afternoon, the lad came home he had lost his cheerful mood of the morning. He was sullen and downcast. David had made up his mind that his best chance to restore the stolen property to Miss Betsey Taylor and Mrs. Preston was on the night of the fancy dress ball. The upstairs part of the house would then probably be empty, and no one would think of him or notice him. At any rate, he dared not wait longer. As soon as Tom and the other boys returned, the houseboat party would start off up the river again in tow of the "Sea Gull," and his opportunity would be lost.