"But Miss Carlson," began Beatrice, impatiently, "don't you see that thewhole point--"

"I like this way just as well," broke in Morgan Wales. "What you reallycare about is the fortune, and it doesn't matter whether it's in a pepperor under your plate."

"Not a bit," agreed Eleanor, crumpling up her fortune nervously.

"And now," exclaimed Dora, "we'll all read them out loud and look at how they fit.I put them around without looking at them, and I didn't know where any ofyou were going to sit."

"I guess mine fits beautiful well," exclaimed the giggling cousin, whose fortunehad a man in it.

"Then why don't you begin?" suggested Betty, and the cousin began withavidity. Dora had absolutely no literary ability; the spontaneous gaietythat bubbled up in all that she said and did was entirely lacking in thestiff, sentimental little character-sketch, but it pleased its reader,and Betty and Eleanor joined in declaring it fairly interesting.

"Now, Eleanor," exclaimed Betty, "you come next."

Eleanor shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I tore mine up before I knew wewere to read them." She held up the crumpled ball of paper.