Three girls were strolling down the street, and, as on the occasion when the three fishermen once sailed out to sea, the sun was going down. The golden rays, slanting in from over the western hills that stood back of the little town of Deepdale, struck full in the faces of the maids as they turned a corner, and so bright was the glare that one of them—a tall, willowy lass, with a wealth of fluffy, light hair, turned aside with a cry of annoyance."Oh, why can't the sun be nice!" she exclaimed, half-petulantly."What do you want it to do, Grace?" asked a vivacious, dark-complexioned sprite next to the complaining one. "Go under a cloud just to suit you?""No, my dear, I'm not as fussy as that!""Indeed not!" chimed in the third member of the trio, a quiet girl, with thoughtful eyes. "What Grace wants is some nice young fellow to come along with an umbrella, hoist it over her, and invite her in to have—a chocolate soda!""Why, Amy Blackford! I'll never speak to you again!" gasped the accused one, blushing vividly, the more so as the rays of the setting sun fell upon her face. "All I said was——"