afternoon they stood in a row, beside Harriet Hamlin and her father,
helping to receive the guests who crowded in to the reception. Some of
the women wore beautiful gowns, others looked as though they had come
from small towns where the residents knew nothing of fashionable society.

Mollie and Bab wore the white chiffon frocks Mr. Prescott had presented
them with in Chicago. But Grace and Ruth wore gowns that had been ordered
for this particular occasion. Bab thought their white frocks, which
looked as though they were new, as pretty as any of the gowns worn there.
But little Mollie was not satisfied. She hated old clothes, no matter how
well they looked. And Harriet Hamlin was rarely beautiful in an imported
gown of pale, yellow crêpe.

After receiving for an hour, Bab slipped quietly into a chair near a
window. She wished to examine the guests at her leisure. Mollie and Ruth
were deep in conversation with Mrs. Post and Hugh. Grace was talking to
Dorothy and Gwendolin Morton.

Barbara's eyes wandered eagerly over the throng of people. Suddenly some
one touched her on the shoulder.

"You do not remember me, do you?"

Bab turned and saw a young woman.

"I am Marjorie Moore," said the newcomer. "I am the girl who came to ask
you for your pictures. Perhaps you think it is strange for me to come to
Harriet Hamlin's reception when she was so rude to me last night. But I
am not a guest. Besides, newspaper people are not expected to have any
feelings. My newspaper sent me to find out what people were here this