turned Sally Dickson. "We're plain folk. Don't do things like they do East."
"How do you know what sort of parties we have at home?" queried Ruth, laughing at her. "We're not city girls. We live in the country and get our fun where we can find it, too. And perhaps we can help you have a good time—if you'll let us."
"Well, I don't know," began Sally, yet beginning to smile, too; nobody could be grouchy and stare into Ruth Fielding's happy face for long.
"What do you do for music?"
"Well, one of the boys at Chatford's got a banjo and old Jim Casey plays the accordeon—when he's sober. But the last time the music failed us, and one of the boys tried to whistle the dances; but one feller that was mad with him kept showing him a lemon and it made his mouth twist up so that he couldn't keep his lips puckered nohow."
Ruth giggled at that, but said at once:
"One of my friends plays the piano real nicely; but of course it would be too much trouble to bring Jane Ann's piano away over here. However, my chum, Helen, plays the violin. She will bring it and help out on the music, I know. And we'd all be glad of an invitation."
"Why, sure! you come over," cried Sally, warming up to Ruth's advances. "I suppose a
