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That’s all there is to it.”
    Nancy gave her friend’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. “Well, try not to worry about it Lynn. Maybe he’ll change his mind when he sees that everybody else from the Hill is going to be in on it and when he sees how much fun we’re having and everything.”
    â€œMaybe,” Lynn said, knowing that he would not. Once her father’s mind was made up, nothing short of an earthquake was going to change it.
    By the time she had filled her tray at the cafeteria and seated herself at a table, Lynn found that everyone knew.
She did not have to tell anyone of her father’s decision, for Nancy had spread the word for her, and she was greeted by a wave of sympathy.
    â€œIt’s tough luck,” Holly Taylor declared. “But maybe your dad will come around.”
    Joan Wilson said, “I don’t understand how he could feel that way. Why, my father was delighted! He said he thought it sounded like a wonderful idea and a real social lift for the town.”
    Lynn murmured something unintelligible and tried to bury her face behind a sandwich. She sat quietly, letting herself fade more and more into the background as the other girls’ conversation picked up on all sides and rattled gaily on, from one end of the subject to the other and back again.
    â€œA party each weekend! That’s the way the schedule is going to run, and then every day of the holidays. My aunt is going to give my party—a luncheon—and it should be marvelous! Aunt Jenny always has such wonderful new ideas for things.”
    â€œMother’s going to plan a dinner dance for us. She says she’ll even hire an orchestra!”
    â€œThe Christmas parties are going to be the most exciting. All the fellows will be home from college, so we’ll have more boys than we know what to do with.”
    â€œDaddy says my big Christmas present this year will be a new dress for every Christmas party!”
    They were all talking at once—Joan, Holly, Nancy—the whole table full of girls. And down at the end, Lynn saw to her surprise, was Brenda Peterson, her mousy little face flushed with excitement.
    She’s part of it, Lynn thought, with an anger out of all
proportion to the situation. She couldn’t get to be one of the gang any other way, so now her mother is buying her way in by organizing this debutante program.
    She had never before felt anything personal against Brenda Peterson. Now, watching her shy smile and the way she leaned forward eagerly to join the conversation, she felt a sudden, strong dislike.
    Glancing past Brenda to the next table, Lynn saw another group of girls quietly eating. They were not the Hill girls, but there were one or two of them whom she knew fairly well from sitting near them in classes. Rachel Goldman, a dark, attractive girl, had written the winning entry in last year’s essay contest. Clara Marivella was president of the square dance club, an organization none of the Hill crowd ever entered. Anne Masters, the girl Nancy had referred to as a “sweet little thing,” was telling them something. It must have been something funny, for Rachel and Clara both burst out laughing.
    Watching them, Lynn wondered what they were laughing at. She had never really noticed them very much before, but now, suddenly, she saw them as an attractive group of girls who seemed to be living satisfactory lives all their own, with their own friendships, their own jokes, their own laughter.
    Anne glanced up, caught Lynn’s eyes upon her and smiled. Her smile was natural and friendly and spontaneous, and automatically Lynn smiled back.
    She thought, I wonder what Anne Masters is like. It must be hard having a brother like Dirk. I wonder what she could have to say that would be so funny that everyone would start to laugh.

    Beside her, Joan was talking. Lynn turned, trying to catch the trend of the conversation.
    â€œ. . . and so Father said,