allow him to examine her costume and pay
the proper tribute of praise.

"It's charming--quite charming--so simple, and yet so effective. Those
few loose flowers are much better than a formal bouquet, and the
scroll--who made the scroll? It is most professional, and I see you
have a pencil hanging by the side,--white,--to match the rest." He
lifted it as he spoke, and made as though about to write, but at that
Pixie drew back in dismay.

"No, you mustn't! Be careful,--you must be careful. It won't rub out."

She walked hastily away, and the two who were left looked at each other,
half sad, half smiling, for the words went home with a meaning deeper
than any which the speaker had intended to convey.

"Be careful. It won't rub out," repeated Hilliard slowly. "That's a
good motto for the New Year. I don't know that one could have a better.
I shall remember that, and the scroll all white and unmarked. I wonder
what will be written there before the year is done?"

"A great deal, I hope--a great many happenings. I am tired of jogging
along in the same old way. I would like a sensational headline in big
print, and that as soon as possible!" cried Esmeralda recklessly.

Poor Esmeralda! The day was near at hand when she recalled her words,
and winced at the remembrance in sorrow and misery.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE LAST RUN.

"Me dear," said Bridgie to Mademoiselle, the next morning, showing all
her dimples at once in the most mischievous of smiles, "what do you
think Mr Hilliard said to me last night before he left? He has made
arrangements to stay a few days later to have another ride with the
hounds. He believed it would be a very good meet on Thursday, and how
wonderfully my sister did ride, to be sure. It's my belief he started
with the intention of asking me to let Esmeralda go in my place, but I
looked so innocent at him that he hadn't the heart. `Indeed,' I said,
`she did so, and I feared he would think I made but a poor show in
comparison.' Wasn't it cruel of me now, and the poor thing looking at
me speechless, with those lovely, humbugging eyes! I had to turn away
and laugh in a corner, but I wouldn't relent, for, says I to myself, if
I have to give up my run, I'll get some fun another way--and it is
amusing, isn't it now, when a man shows you so plainly that he doesn't
want you?"

"Indeed that is a form of humour I do not understand!" returned
Mademoiselle, with her nose in the air.