A curious friendship had sprung up between Cathalina and Isabel Hunt. Perhaps the first tie was the devotion to Cathalina of Avalon Moore, Isabel’s roommate. Then Cathalina was a revelation to Isabel, crude, motherless little girl that she was. For Isabel had been brought up by a father troubled about business affairs, by a queer old cousin who kept house, and by four older brothers.

“No wonder Isabel talks as carelessly as she does, Mamma,” wrote Cathalina. “I could not bear her at first. But she has the dearest, warmest heart, and is such a little wild rose of a thing, with her curly hair and rosy cheeks, that I’ve changed my mind. Miss Randolph said that she is ‘a dear little girl that ought to have more love and care.’ She and Avalon hang around our ‘bunch,’ as Isabel calls us, as much as possible and are delighted to make themselves useful.

“Now, dearest Mothery, don’t forget what I told you about Hilary’s birthday. Please let me give her something nice, won’t you? I’ll run the risk of her feeling ‘under obligation.’ She is such a dear and has been so lovely to me. I’ll never even tell her before my birthday. Besides, my birthday does not come in school time. Hilary will be sixteen! I’m glad she is older than I; I’ve depended upon her a lot. She knows so much more about people, someway, than I do. Her mother is going to send her a birthday box and I’m ever so curious to see what a real birthday box at school is like.”

The “bunch” to which Cathalina referred was the group of girls who lived for the most part on Lakeview Corridor. It was not a “clique”, exclusive, but merely the usual drawing together of a merry group that chanced to become better acquainted through association in classes or some personal attraction to each other. But there were other nice girls on this corridor and elsewhere, with whom in time Cathalina and Hilary formed many pleasant friendships.

Three exciting events were on for the last week of October: Hilary’s birthday, the election of captain for the Junior (Academy) basketball team, and the Hallowe’en masquerade. Tongues were gabbling and fingers flying on costumes in the interesting hours between recitation, study hours, mealtime and bedtime. Lights were rarely out on time and many were the dread reproofs from teachers on the different corridors. Cathalina was on the committee for the Hallowe’en performance, while Hilary was deep in the interests of basketball. She was “out for the team” and the recipient of confidences on all sides.

On the day of her birthday, Hilary was flying down the hall, tapping at different doors.

Isabel’s brown curls lifted from the remarkable costume on which she was sewing with unaccustomed fingers. “Where’s Avalon?” Hilary asked, as she held the door part way open.

“She has not been up since lunch.”

“Then invite her for me, please, when she comes in. I want both of you to come to our feast tonight. I am to have a box from home if nothing happens. It is to arrive this afternoon, so the things will be fresh. If it should be delayed, we’ll have the feast tomorrow.”

“O, goody!—you’re a duck, Hilary. I’ll be dee-lighted and so will Avalon. It’s awfully good of you to invite us with the big girls!” Isabel jumped up, dropping scissors and work on the floor, while she ran to take Hilary’s face in her two hands and kiss her. “Many happy returns!”

Hilary looked embarrassed, for she “wasn’t much at kissing.”

“Be sure to come,” she said hospitably, as she vanished to tap at the next door. “What in the world is this!” and Hilary pretended to start back in fright. A fierce growl greeted this question, as Diane in a bear’s costume, to which Helen had been putting a few last stitches, sat up, waved brown paws and started a rolling dance.

“Isn’t it good?” asked Helen.

“Great!” Hilary replied, clapping her hands in applause.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the only Cinnamon-Black Bear in captivity,” said Helen, as she slipped into a rough coat and adjusted a man’s slouch hat over her eyes. “Here is his chain.” She threw a long iron chain around Diane’s neck. “This is the worst place to get anything. I wish Miss Randolph would let us go to the city for costumes.”

“She said we’d have just as much fun with inexpensive things. But I’m forgetting my errand. Cathalina Van Buskirk and Hilary Lancaster will be at home this evening at eight o’clock and will be happy to see Miss Diane Percy, Helen Paget, Miss Lilian North, and Miss Betty Barnes at that time,—very promptly—if we don’t send for you to help before!”

“Don’t worry. We wouldn’t miss it. Has the box come?”

“No; but Mother said it would before night, and what Mother can’t put through has not yet been discovered! Miss Randolph said we could sit up a while after ‘lights out,’ so we can have a good time and not hurry. Yum-yum, I know Uncle Andrew’s chickens from Brookdale farm will be in it!”

“Did you say ‘CHICKENS’? in the plural?” asked Diane in deep and husky tones, while she made her eyes big and waved her claws again.

“Ow! Let me escape, fierce beast!” and Hilary disappeared.

As Hilary came into the room, Cathalina, who like all the rest was industriously sewing, pointed with a smile to the birthday box, just deposited near the table by the janitor. The top was open and the nails carefully drawn from the boards.

“Hooray!” cried Hilary. “But I’m not going to take a thing out till after dinner.”

“How can you wait so long?”

“Because I think it will be fun to take it all out at once, and it will spoil our appetites to nibble at things,—and how could we help it?—and then, Mother has packed that box and I know that the eats and everything are in glorious shape. They’ll be better to stay as they are until we are ready. I hope the girls won’t eat much at dinner.”

“If I were Pearl Opal I’d exclaim—‘eat much? here?’”

“Poor Pearl! How she hates it here!”

“When are you going to have the feast, Hilary?”

“About half-past eight or nine o’clock, though it’s supposed to be a ‘midnight feast.’ We’ll begin to borrow dishes and fix up soon after dinner. Won’t it be jolly? It isn’t every girl that can be at Greycliff and have a birthday and a big box from home.”

“A little package came to me, too,” said Cathalina, putting down her work and going into the bedroom. In a moment she appeared with a little black leather case.

“O, what did they send you?” asked generous Hilary, who was always glad for the good fortune of others. Cathalina opened the case. There on soft ivory satin lay a delicate gold chain with an exquisite little pendent of opals and tiny diamonds.

“How beautiful!” exclaimed Hilary, looking closely.

“Try it on,” Cathalina invited, her eyes dancing.

“Isn’t it the sweetest thing, Cathalina! It will be so pretty with all your low-necked dresses.”

“Yes it—won’t, Miss Hilary,” replied Cathalina, who could not wait any longer. Putting her arm about Hilary, she held the hands that were beginning to unfasten the clasp. “It’s yours, girlie, with ‘many happy returns.’ I had Mamma get your birthstones, for it’s lucky, they say for October girls to wear opals.” Cathalina laughed at Hilary’s astounded look. “I hope that you will enjoy it and remember your old goose of a roommate when you wear it.”

“You old darling!—but I can’t, really, it’s too nice,—opals and diamonds!”

“It isn’t much, honestly. I wanted Mamma to get something nicer, but she knew best, I suppose.”

“What could be nicer? O! It is so lovely!” and Hilary looked in the mirror again. “It surely is a surprise. I don’t feel I ought to have it, but thank you a thousand times!” Hilary hugged the happy Cathalina, who said, “Put on for dinner your white organdy with the V neck and see how this looks with it.”

“All right. I’ll have to change again, though, can’t risk my pretty dress unpacking.”

“Grace says that the girls usually wear their kimonos at a late spread.” As she spoke, Cathalina smiled, thinking what her mother would say if she saw her daughter in the big figured kimono which she had purchased at the Greycliff Heights “emporium”. Her lacy negligee she had found scarcely suitable for Greycliff “stunts”.

Lessons, Gym practice, dinner, committee meetings and a turn outdoors were all over at last. Hilary’s “sparkler”, as Isabel called it, had been duly admired and commented on by dozens of girls. She and Cathalina flew up to their suite and were joined by Isabel and Avalon, who had begged to be allowed to help.

“We’ll get the dishes all ready before we unpack the box. Then we can set the goodies right on the table, Isabel. Will you please go to 57 and borrow the girls’ kettle for the cocoa?”

“I’ll make that,” offered Avalon. She was taking domestic science and welcomed a chance to practice.

“All right; I brought up the milk and put it out on the window ledge. And I wonder if you wouldn’t help gather up dishes now. Run around to Grace and Eloise first. With theirs and those from fifty-one, and ours, of course, we’ll have enough, I think. O, yes,—tell ’em to bring what spoons they have.” So directed Hilary.

Books and papers were piled on window sills and floor. Whisk went the table runner and Cathalina came trotting with a dust cloth. A clean dresser scarf and paper napkins made sufficient covering for the table, and a pile of wooden plates was placed on one end. “Now let’s see,” pondered Hilary. “Two can sit on the cedar chest here, three on your new box, Cathalina,” whirling around a light box which had been another purchase at the Emporium, and contained little of weight as yet. “That’s five, and four chairs, nine; and when the box is empty it can stand on end with a cushion on it. A few chairs from Lil’s will finish out nicely.”

“What’s the matter with cushions on the floor?”

“O, well, we’re having more than light refreshments and I’m afraid it would get tiresome.”

Bright pink spots burned on Hilary’s cheeks as she hurried around to get everything ready. Then she began to draw one package after another out of the birthday box. First came a flat paper box, which contained some acceptable little gifts for the sixteen-year-old daughter. Within the tissue paper lay some bright hair ribbons, a pair of kid gloves, a dainty handkerchief and some fragrant sachets made by June from satin ribbon. These were admired by the girls who stood or sat near, but they were much more interested in the rest of the contents. A birthday letter Hilary slipped into her belt to read presently.

“Look, girls, the big box in the middle has the chicken, I know!” Hilary lifted the lid and disclosed tempting pieces of fried chicken well wrapped in oiled paper. “Please take them out, Isabel, and arrange on some of the wooden plates, on a paper napkin, you know.”

“How many chickens do you suppose your mother cooked? Here’s nothing but breast and second joints and nice things.”

“They’re having chicken pie on the remains,” said Hilary laughing. “Here’s some of June’s famous salad, two quart cans,—and do you like blackberry jelly, Avalon? Good, two glasses. That is all I was afraid of that there wouldn’t be enough of the little things for the crowd. But Mother knew little Hilary!”

A big birthday cake, candles in a box; nut bread; pimento and cheese sandwiches; country butter; fresh rolls, home-made; a package of June’s fudge and “divinity”; cream candies, made with fondant; a large candy box of blanched almonds and hickory nut meats; olives and fine home-made pickles, all came in quick succession from that still famous box. In the corners and around about were tucked oranges and red and golden apples. The girls shook every scrap of paper for fear they might miss something. “And everything so wonderfully packed!” they exclaimed. As the table was not large enough to hold it all, the cake and other goodies for dessert were carried into the other room and the top of the dresser cleared to hold them.

“I feel like a little piggy-hog,” sighed Isabel, looking at the table full of good things.

“Help yourselves,” said Hilary, turning to the book-shelves and then passing a box of chocolates which had reposed there, having arrived from Aunt Hilary that morning.

“One chocolate and a pickle is my limit,” Avalon decided, and turned her back on the table to enjoy those delicacies. “We must save our appetites for the chicken. We can buy candy, but where can we ever get chicken like that?” Avalon, long over her homesickness, was almost as full of life as Isabel.

“Now for the cocoa, Avalon,—I’ll help.” Cathalina’s housewifely instincts supplied what experience lacked and she found that she liked to fuss around after this fashion.

Then the guests began to arrive. Diane Percy, Helen Paget, Lilian North, Betty Barnes, Grace Barnard, Eloise Winthrop and two newer friends, Juliet Howe and Pauline Tracy, came in, one or two at a time. Juliet and Pauline, like Hilary, were “out” for basketball. Both were active, athletic girls. Pauline, known as “Polly”, was a plump, rather solid looking girl, with round cheeks, full, pleasant mouth, quantities of long black hair, steady grey eyes, and strong, capable looking hands, equally efficient for basketball, tennis, and rowing, or for driving, and cooking for hungry cowboys on the ranch from which she came. “She can do even more than Hilary, Betty says,” wrote Cathalina to her mother. Cathalina had never met a girl just like Pauline, and was much interested in everything about her. Juliet was known as Polly’s Shadow, partly because of their intimacy. She was almost Polly’s twin in complexion, hair and eyes, but was tall and thin, with long, slender face. Swiftness and general activity were her particular recommendations for basketball.

Grace came in the dress which she had worn to dinner and was sent back by Isabel for a kimono. “Nobody can come without a wedding garment,” cried she, picking up a last piece of oiled paper to tuck in the waste basket, and bringing a cushion for the wooden box, which she had set on end. “Come one, come all!”

“All right, kiddie,” said Grace, looking around with amusement at the gay garments, “I’ll be glad enough to get into one.”

“Now excuse me just a minute while I read my letter. I can’t wait any longer. I was not expecting to find one in the box or I would have unpacked it before. You can pass the candy and pickles again, girls, as an appetizer. Grace will be back in a minute.”

So Hilary ran into the bedroom, carrying her precious birthday letter with its words of praise for past days and blessings and good cheer for the days to come. She also opened a second package from Aunt Hilary, taking out a silk workbag, all fitted out with scissors, new thimble and all the accessories. “Look, girls,” she said, going back to her guests, “this is one thing that we did not get ready last summer. I brought my old work box.”

Such exclamations as there had been when each guest had caught sight of the table. Betty Barnes, perched on the wooden box, shook her head when asked to take a more comfortable seat. “Thank you, this is so handy to the table!” With her little slippered feet she beat a tattoo against the boards as she ate the pickle for which Hilary well knew each girl’s mouth would water. Betty was in high spirits and all the girls in gay humor. In a few minutes Avalon and Cathalina arrived with the steaming kettle of cocoa, and after some skirmishing around for the proper number of cups, plates and paper napkins, the feast began, much later than planned, but as the girls all said, the later the better!