's temporary incapacity
set aside the program of study usual to each forenoon; and Jane's
suddenly aroused interest in plumbing made the canceling of that day's
riding-lesson seem advisable. It was Thomas who telephoned the
postponement. And Gwendolyn found herself granted some little time to
herself.

But she was not playing any of the games she loved--the absorbing
pretend-games with which she occupied herself on just such rare
occasions. Her own pleasure, her own disappointment, too,--these were
entirely put aside in a concern touching weightier matters. Slippers
upheld by a hassock, and slender pink-frocked figure bent across the
edge of the school-room table, she had each elbow firmly planted on a
page of the wide-open, dictionary.

At all times the volume was beguiling--this in spite of the fact that
the square of black-board always carried along its top, in glaring
chalk, the irritating reminder: _Use Your Dictionary!_ There was
diversion in turning the leaves at random (blissfully ignoring the while
any white list that might be inscribed down the whole of the board) to
chance upon big, strange words.

But the word she was now poring over was a small one. "B-double-e," she
spelled; "Bee: a so-cial hon-ey-gath-er-ing in-sect."

She pondered the definition with wrinkled forehead and worried eye.
"Social"--the word seemed vaguely linked with that other word,
"Society", which she had so fortunately overheard. But what of the
remainder of that visitor's never-to-be-forgotten declaration of scorn?
For the definition had absolutely nothing to say about any _bonnet_.

She was shoving the pages forward with an impatient damp thumb in her
search for Bonnet, when Thomas entered, slipping in around the edge of
the hall door on soft foot--with a covert peek nursery-ward that was
designed to lend significance to his coming. His countenance, which on
occasion could be so rigorously sober, was fairly askew with a smile.

Gwendolyn stood up straight on the hassock to look at him. And at first
glance divined that something--probably in the nature of an
edible--might be expected. For the breast-pocket of his liveried coat
bulged promisingly.

"Hello!" he saluted, tiptoeing genially across the room.

"Hello!" she returned noncommittally.

Near the table, he reached into the bulging pocket and drew out a small
Manila bag. The bag was partly open at the top. He tipped his head to
direct one black eye upon its contents.

"