dear Lollie!" She had come into her own! She was being crowned in her rightful kingdom at last!
Stella left the window for a moment and stole to the front corner of the house. Yes. There was an awning running from the front door to the street; there was a man in livery at the curbing, shouting numbers; there was a long row of automobiles on both sides of the street, reaching far away in both directions. All for Lollie!
Stella glanced up. Every window was faintly aglow. Through one of them that must have been open she could hear music, dance music—piano, violins, saxophone, and drum. All for Lollie! She went back again to her window in the alley.
Everything was as it ought to be. Even Lollie's mother was as she ought to be—also wearing a gown made by an artist, also wearing pearls, also beautiful, also queenly. My! Mrs. Morrison was made for the part. As the guests approached her, Stella observed that there was that look of high approval and homage in their eyes that should be in the eyes of everybody who shook hands with Laurel's mother. Stella observed, too, that when the guests shook hands with Laurel—with the little queen herself—there was more than high approval in their eyes. There was sudden and spontaneous pleasure, and afterwards murmured words of praise.
For more than an hour Stella stood in the shadow of an electric pole, and feasted and feasted. A policeman finally discovered her and told her to move along.
"All right," she replied cheerfully, "I will. I'm
