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John Hadley and Dick Roberts, two old friends of the girls, smiled back at them, and hurried down the steps. Never had they seemed so fine looking, so admirable, so strong to Lily and Marjorie, as at that moment, after their weary evening of watching the insipid, smirking, conceited faces of the young men at the dance, and listening to their inane chatter and coarse laughter. Marjorie breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Don’t tell them how awful it has been, Lil,” she cautioned. “They’d only rave—and it’s all over now.”

“We can’t keep it from them, you know we can’t,” replied her companion.

The boys were beside them now.

“How’s the party going?” John inquired pleasantly.

“Fine,” answered Marjorie, “but I guess it will be all right for us to leave.”

“Not till I get a look at the flappers!” Dick declared. “I want to see what kind of a job you and Lily made of it.”

The girls exchanged glances.

“What’s the matter?” demanded John.

So Marjorie told them the story, thinking that she could make it sound a little better than Lily might.