uired a few minutes' breathing time to recover his
self-possession, and the girls drove off alone, not at all sorry, if the
truth were told, to be deprived of his company.

"Well, Fuzzy!" cried Tom.

"Well, Tom!" cried Rhoda, and stared with wondering eyes at the
unaccustomed grandeur of her friend's attire. Thomasina had done honour
to the occasion by putting on her very best coat and skirt, of a shade
of fawn accurately matching her complexion, while on her head was
perched that garment unknown at Hurst, "a trimmed hat." Fawn straw,
fawn wings sticking out at right angles, bows of fawn-coloured ribbon
wired into ferocious stiffness--such was the work of art; and
complacent, indeed, was the smile of its owner as she met her
companion's scrutiny.

"Got 'em _all_ on, haven't I?" she enquired genially. "Must do honour
to the occasion, you know, and here's yourself all a-blowing, all a-
growing, looking as fresh as a daisy, in your grand white clothes!"

"Indeed, then, I feel nothing of the kind, or it must be a very dejected
daisy. You have heard the news, of course, and know that I am--"

"Plucked!" concluded Tom, pronouncing the awful word without a quiver.
"Yes. Thought you would be; you were so cheap that arithmetic morning.
You can't do sums when you are on the point of fainting every second
minute... Very good results on the whole."

"Yes, but--isn't it awful for me? Don't you pity me? I never in my
life had such a blow."

"Bit of a jar, certainly, but it's over now, and can't be helped. No
use whining!" said Tom calmly, and Rhoda gave a little jump in her seat.
After all, can anyone minister to a youthful sufferer like a friend of
her own age? Tom's remarks would hardly have been considered comforting
by an outsider, yet by one short word she had helped Rhoda more than any
elderly comforter had been able to do. It was interesting and
praiseworthy to grieve over such a disappointment as she had
experienced, to be sorrowful, even heart-broken, but _to whine_! That
put an entirely different aspect on her grief! To whine was feeble,
childish, and undignified, a thing to which no self-respecting girl
could stoop. As Rhoda recalled her tears and repinings, a flush of
shame came to her cheeks, and she resolved that, whatever she might have
to suffer in the future, she would, at least, keep it to herself, and
not proclaim her trouble on the house-tops.

When the Chase was reached, Tom was taken into