lliant, and her upper lip curved rosily over a shining glimpse of
her white teeth.

Beauty had an extraordinary fascination for Tims, poor step-child of
nature! Now she stood looking at the reflection of Milly without
noticing how in the background her own strange, wizened face peered dim
and grotesque from the tarnished mirror, like the picture of a witch or
a goblin behind the fair semblance of some princess in a fairy tale.

"I do remember myself partly," said Milly, doubtfully; "and yet--somehow
not quite. I suppose I shall remember you and this queer place soon, if
they don't put me into a mad-house at once."

"They sha'n't," said Tims, decisively. "Trust to me, M., and I'll see
you through. But I'm afraid you'll have to give up all thought of your
First."

"My what," asked Milly, turning round inquiringly.

"Your First Class, your place, you know, in the Final Honors School,
Lit. Hum., the biggest examination of the lot."

"Do I want it very much, my First?"

"Want it? I should just think you do want it!"

Milly stared at the fire for a minute, warming one foot before she spoke
again. Then:

"How funny of me!" she observed, meditatively.

CHAPTER IV

Tims's programme happened to be full on the following day, so that it
was half-past twelve before she knocked at Milly's door and was
admitted. Milly stood in the middle of the room in an attitude of
energy, with her small wardrobe lying about her on the floor in
ignominious heaps.

"Tell me, Tims," said Milly, after the first inquiries, "are those
positively all the clothes I possess?"

"Of course they are, M. What do you want with more?"

"Are they in the fashion?" asked Milly, anxiously.

Tims stared.

"Fashion! Good Lord, M.! What does it matter whether you look the same
as every fool in the street or not?"

"Oh, Tims!" cried Milly, laughing that pretty rippling laugh so strange
in Tims's ears. "I was quite right when I made a mistake, you're just
like a man. All the better. But you can't expect me not to care a bit
about my clothes like you, you really can't."

Tims drew herself up.

"You're wrong, my girl, I'm a deal fonder of frocks than you are. I
always think," she added, looking before her dreamily, "that I was
meant to be a very good dresser, only I was brought up too economical."
Generally speaking, when Tims had uttered one of her deepest and truest
feelings, she would glance around, suddenly alert and suspicious to
surpr