onsolation for the mishap which evidently weighed upon his
mind.

'Don't be an old Betty; it can be cleaned. You must have been a cat
in some former state, you are so troubled about dirt; or a tailor, and
lived for clothes.'

'Come now, don't hit a fellow when he is down,' responded Dolly from
the grass where he and Stuffy now lay to make room for both girls on the
seat. One handkerchief was spread under him, and his elbow leaned upon
another, while his eyes were sadly fixed upon the green and brown spot
which afflicted him. 'I like to be neat; don't think it civil to cut
about in old shoes and grey flannel shirts before ladies. Our fellows
are gentlemen, and dress as such,' he added, rather nettled at the
word 'tailor'; for he owed one of those too attractive persons an
uncomfortably big bill.

'So are ours; but good clothes alone don't make a gentleman here. We
require a good deal more,' flashed Josie, in arms at once to defend
her college. 'You will hear of some of the men in "old boots and grey
flannel" when you and your fine gentlemen are twiddling your ties and
scenting your hair in obscurity. I like old boots and wear them, and I
hate dandies; don't you, Bess?'

'Not when they are kind to me, and belong to our old set,' answered
Bess, with a nod of thanks to Dolly, who was carefully removing an
inquisitive caterpillar from one of her little russet shoes.

'I like a lady who is always polite, and doesn't snap a man's head off
if he has a mind of his own; don't you, George?' asked Dolly, with his
best smile for Bess and a Harvard stare of disapprobation for Josie.

A tranquil snore was Stuffy's sole reply, and a general laugh restored
peace for the moment. But Josie loved to harass the lords of creation
who asserted themselves too much, and bided her time for another attack
till she had secured more tennis. She got another game; for Dolly was
a sworn knight of dames, so he obeyed her call, leaving Bess to sketch
George as he lay upon his back, his stout legs crossed, and his round
red face partially eclipsed by his hat. Josie got beaten this time and
came back rather cross, so she woke the peaceful sleeper by tickling his
nose with a straw till he sneezed himself into a sitting posture, and
looked wrathfully about for 'that confounded fly'.

'Come, sit up and let us have a little elegant conversation; you
"howling swells" ought to improve our minds and manners, for we are
only poor "country girls in dowdy g