“We will go for a short drive, then come back for Everett,” planned Miss Southard.  “He has promised to hurry to-night—­then we will have a nice little supper at home.”  Their hostess and her brother had agreed that there should be no after-the-theatre suppers at any of the so-called fashionable restaurants for their young guests.  “I am sure their mothers would not approve of it,” Miss Southard had said, “and I feel that I am responsible for them every moment they are here.”

The party at home was an informal affair in which there were many cooks, but no broth spoiled.  To see Mr. Southard earnestly engaged in making a Welsh rarebit, an accomplishment in which he claimed to be highly proficient, one would never have suspected him of being able to thrill vast audiences by his slightest word or gesture.

“I can’t believe that only two hours ago you were ‘Hamlet,’” laughed Grace.  “You look anything but tragic now.”

“He looked every bit as tragic just a moment ago.  I saw a distinct Hamlet-like expression creep into his face,” stated Miriam boldly.

“You have sharp eyes,” smiled Mr. Southard.  “I happened to remember that I had forgotten what goes into this rarebit next.  I could feel myself growing cold with despair.  Then the inspiration came and now it will be ready in two minutes.”

The rarebit was voted a success.  After decorating the actor with a bit of blue ribbon on which Miriam painstakingly printed “first premium” with a lead pencil, he was escorted to the head of the table and congratulated roundly upon being able not only to act but to cook.

The next morning every one confessed to being a trifle sleepy, but appeared at breakfast at the usual time.  After breakfast Mr. Southard carried Anne off to met Mr. Forest, while Miss Southard, Miriam and Grace decided to go for a drive through Central Park.  It was a clear, cold, sparkling day with just enough snow to make it seem like real Thanksgiving weather.

“Too bad Anne can’t be with us,” said Grace regretfully.

“Everett will take her for a drive before bringing her home,” replied Miss Southard.

Shortly after their return to the house Mr. Southard and Anne returned from their drive.  Anne’s eyes were sparkling and her cheeks rosy as she ran up the steps.

“Anne must have heard good news!” exclaimed Grace, running from her post at one of the drawing room windows into the hall, Miriam at her heels.

“The deed is done, girls,” laughed Anne.  “Behold in me the future star of the Forest Stock Company.  It doesn’t sound much like Rosalind, does it? and it means awfully hard work, but I’ll earn enough money next summer to almost finish paying my way through college.”

“Hurrah!” cried Grace.  “We won’t allow you to become lonesome.  We will come and visit you during vacation.”

“That ought to reconcile me to having to work all summer,” smiled Anne.  “I shall be selfish and manage to have some of you girls with me all the time.”